


Mightier Than The Sword

by kekinkawaii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Todd Brotzman is perfectly fine. He works at a bakery all day and sleeps (er, tries to) all night. He's definitely not lonely, and he definitely doesn't need some random, hyperactive college student breaking into his apartment, and, concurrently, his life. No matter how hot he is.Dirk Gently, of course, thinks otherwise. With his rapidfire wit and oddly charming (yet equally eccentric) shade of bizarre, he sidles into Todd’s everyday routine and casually sends his carefully-constructed world careening off its axis. Todd is quickly swept away in it all, but is he willing to step so far past his comfort zone? What is he so afraid of?
Relationships: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 43
Kudos: 38
Collections: DGHDA Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to posting day!!
> 
> This is my second time participating in the DGHDA Big Bang, and it was just as fun as I remembered it to be. A thousand thanks to Hellz for organizing such an amazing event, and of course to my wonderful artists at buttonbright—they made [SUCH GOOD ART. GO CHECK IT OUT](https://buttonbright.tumblr.com/post/625897728281559040/art-for-the-2020-dirk-gentlys-holistic-detective). Love you guys <3
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

The rain was suffocating, Todd thought, and then wondered when he had the time to become a lyricist. 

But he wouldn’t be wrong. The air was damp and felt like a thick, humid blanket happily snuggled into his chest. The rain was no more rain than somewhat-wet air, misting all over his face in a fuzzy film. He smiled absently, humouring himself as he trudged down the muddy concrete sidewalks leading to his apartment. He used to like the rain. He wondered when he stopped liking it.

The abundant passerby gradually dropped out from the dozens to the single digits, until finally, he appeared alone as he continued down a dingy-looking sidewalk at the strange precipice between rush hour and night outs. Ripped old newspapers and scarce fragments of green broken glass crunched beneath his boots as he neared his apartment building, the Ridgely. It wasn’t ideal, but after even less than a year of frathouses and first-year dorms, which guaranteed Todd sleepless nights and hair-tearing studying to the soundtrack of drunken screams and raucous laughter and hazing and police sirens before he’d inevitably become an official college dropout—yeah. He wasn’t ungrateful.

He was thinking about the single stale chocolate chip muffin he’d scarfed down an hour ago, and whether or not he cared enough to make dinner by the time he got home (most likely not—he’d live, and he’d sacrifice a full stomach over laziness more often than not), when his thoughts meandered off-rail by a tiny, soft sound that tore him away from his mind and into the present. It was so quiet he nearly missed it. If not for the way the rain seemed to turn every fuzzy and muted around the edges, he was almost certain he would’ve missed it.

His footsteps slowed of his own accord, and his hands automatically went to clutch his pocket for two things: his keys, and his phone. He cocked his head, heart pounding. The sound came again, this time chiming familiar, recognized and harmless, and Todd felt the tension melt out of his shoulders as he drew his hands out of his pockets. He turned towards the source of the sound and followed it to a musty, damp cardboard box. It was sitting in the midst of a pile of papers, flyers, and brochures alike; encased with swirling neon-coloured graffiti. It was slightly askew, squished, as if it were frowning at Todd for coming so late.

Todd approached closer. That sound again, weaker. He hesitated for a second, looked around cautiously, and then ducked down to peer into the box. At first, it appeared to be empty. Then he spotted it.

“Oh,” he said before he could help himself.

A tiny ball of fuzz was curled up in the corner, fur black and mussed and so, so tiny, smaller than the palm of his hand. Todd knew he shouldn’t touch it—had read somewhere about human scents and poor, abandoned babies. He wondered where its mother was, especially out in a day like this, damp and drizzling all dreary-like.

Torn, he gave it a moment of thought before reaching out and flipping down the lid on the cardboard box, just enough that the corner the kitten resided in would be covered and hidden away from the rain.

“Stay safe, buddy,” he whispered, feeling a little silly but no one was watching, anyway, then he gave the cardboard box a few light taps on the side in a whimsical prayer of safety and warm, fuzzy thoughts, before continuing his way.

-+-+-+-

_Thump._

_Creeeak._

Clatter, bang, crash.

“Ow!”

Todd opened his eyes and blearily squinted into the darkness. Faintly, he heard soft cursing coming from outside his bedroom. His heart slammed into his chest and he sat up immediately, disregarding the head rush that buzzed grey spots into his vision.

He craned his head and listened. The cursing dwindled off, and he heard movement, a scuffling in his apartment. (Holy shit.) Slowly, breaths coming shallow from fear, Todd looked around his room for anything he could use as a weapon.

After a moment, wielding a ballpoint pen with the lid taken off (fuck it, if he dies he dies but at least he’ll get to stab the son of a bitch in the eye), he ventured his way towards the door. He’d never been more grateful for the fact that he never closed the door all the way, so that all he needed to do was to give it a light push, and he was out in the open. Quiet mumblings, voice an unrecognizable stranger’s, filled the air as he approached. Todd creeped around, slow and as steady as he could with his trembling legs, until he was just behind the wall of the kitchen. He took a deep breath, then rounded the corner with a yell, brandishing the pen like a sword.

Someone was coming in through the balcony door. It was swung entirely open. At Todd’s shout, they raised their head.

Todd, who was fully prepared to catch the intruder off-guard, froze. (Fuck.)

The intruder didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look dangerous, either. Instead, he smiled like Todd was his best friend instead of a complete stranger, raised one hand with all five fingers wiggling, and said, _“Hi!”_ in an exceedingly cheerful voice.

Todd blinked, and then his mind caught up to the rest of his body, which barrelled forward to grab the intruder and shove him to the ground. He swung one leg over his torso and pushed down at his chest, settling along his body with all his weight to pin him down. Grappelling for a hold, Todd took a steel grip on both their wrists with one hand and managed to pin them to their chest, pressing in and down with the weight of his whole body. Brandishing the pen in his free hand, he snarled and reared back, ready to strike.

The other screamed. Dimly, Todd registered that he had blue eyes—huge and filled with fear.

“Don’t kill me!” the man shrieked, thrashing in Todd’s hold. “I’m too young to die!”

Todd tightened his grip and pushed down harder, settling himself more firmly along the other’s torso. The man was lighter than Todd, it seemed, unable to escape his hold. Todd took a moment to think, then grimly placed the pen between his teeth and ran his hand down the man’s chest, sides, hip, and lower back. He pulled out a phone and a wallet, tossing them aside and letting them clatter to the ground without a second thought. No weapon. He felt his blood roaring in his ears, adrenaline making him lightheaded and woozy, but he refused to budge. He spit out the pen so that it bounced off the man’s face, leaving a light-blue mark on his left cheek.

The man was talking, he finally realized. How long had he been talking?

“Oh, God,” he babbled, “is this how you greet everyone? By stabbing them with a pen? This is how I die, isn’t it? Years and years of possibilities and I get taken out by a pen. Death by impaling. With a pen. I can see it on my gravestone now: Here lies Dirk Gently, stabbed to death with a pen by his apartment neighbour. May he rest in peace.”

The man paused to take in a huge breath. He was hyperventilating. He had a very strong, very posh British accent that reminded Todd of old English dramas. Todd waited to see if he would stop talking.

He didn’t. “Are you some sort of pen serial killer? Oh, my God, is that why they say the pen is mightier than the sword? Because of you? Is there a sword serial killer whom you’re competing against? Or, oh, _wait!_ There must be a sword serial killer _killer_ who’s trying to take you down, but they can’t because your pen killing abilities are too good! Or—oh _no._ Is it a kinky thing? Like, ‘is that a pen in your pocket or are you just happy to see me’ kinda thing? I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re hot, but just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m into masochism!”

Todd’s brain had effectively crashed like a shitty Microsoft program, but at that he finally came back online with a cheery, disembodied jingle ringing somewhere in the back of his mind. He jerked back, sitting up straight, face flushing scarlet. “What? No!” he yelped.

The man’s face flooded with relief. “Oh thank God.” Horror quickly replaced the relief. “Oh, wait, that means you’re a pen serial killer. Oh _no.”_ Curiosity kicked down the door to his facial features and started manning the front desk once again. “But why a ballpoint pen? Surely, if you’re such a connoisseur in pen-fighting you’d deign to use something a little more elegant. Like a Mont-Blanc fountain pen? Do you have some sort of significant adoration towards this particular pen? Is it a family heirloom? Oh my God, are you a whole _generation_ of pen murderers? Or, wait! Do you use a different pen for each murder? Does it depend on the person you’re killing? Dammit, why do I get the crappy BIC? It’s because I’m in a frat, isn’t it?”

The intruder paused right on cue to draw in another huge, heaving breath. Before he could let out another ratcheting machine-gun fire of words, Todd slapped his hand over his mouth. The man let out an undignified squeak.

Todd said, “Do you ever stop talking?”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, then raised. _I’m not talking right now,_ they said.

Todd gripped the man’s wrists harder, feeling the skin tighten under his hold. “Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Instead of answering, the man’s eyebrows steadily grew higher until they were right at his hairline. Then, he wiggled them. It looked ridiculous. Todd was about to say something about it when a hot, wet tongue swiped across his palm. He let out a shocked noise and snatched his hand back. “Ew! What the hell?”

Without Todd’s hand covering it, the man’s mouth was stretched into a grin that somehow managed to look both nervous and salacious. He said, “Is that a pen in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Todd blinked, and watched the man’s gaze drift meaningfully lower, before it dawned on him and he felt prickles of heat crawling up and down his neck. He scrambled off as quickly as he could and watched with a pounding heart as the man got up, dusting himself off. He was wearing a jacket so screamingly yellow it hurt Todd’s eyes to look at it directly.

“Thanks, I guess,” the man said.

“Uh-huh,” Todd said, feeling his panic gradually ebb and be replaced with some disembodied shock. The man didn’t seem _harmless,_ sure, but definitely not harmful. He seemed… oddly charming, in a weird way. And now that the prior adrenaline had faded, Todd couldn’t help but notice that he was quite—or, okay, maybe a lot—attractive. His eyes were the darker shade of blue Todd had always wished his own were, bright and soulful.

He caught himself staring and yanked himself back with an embarrassed cough. It didn’t help that the man didn’t seem to be put off by Todd’s behaviour—in fact, he was smirking a little.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Todd said, reminding himself that this was certainly not a normal situation to be in, and firmly reverting to interrogation mode. “Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The man performed a mock curtsy. “Dirk Gently, at your service.”

“What kind of name is that?” Todd said before he could think. He was still a little rattled. “Sounds like a hiccup.”

“It has character!”

Todd hummed. “Alright, Dirk Gently. What are you doing in my apartment?”

“No fair, how come you get to ask two questions in a row? It’s my turn.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize we were at a slumber party,” Todd said. “Fine. Shoot.”

“What’s your name?”

“Todd Brotzman.”

“What kind of name is that? Sounds like a… Bratwurst sausage.”

“Good one,” Todd said dryly. “My turn. For the third time, what are you doing in my apartment?”

“Well, I sure wasn’t looking to be brutally stabbed to death with a shoddy ballpoint pen,” Dirk said, with just the flicker of saltiness.

“Hey, now,” Todd said mildly. “First of all, I wasn’t going to brutally stab you to death with a ballpoint pen. Second, I wasn’t the one who broke into a stranger’s apartment.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything! I swear!”

“Then why are you here?”

Dirk’s face flushed and he squirmed a little in Todd’s hold, looking away. “Well. Erm. You see, my other neighbours—the ones opposite your side—they, um. Frequently engage in rambunctious, experimental, high-decibel intercourse.”

Todd cocked his head. “Your neighbours have really loud, kinky sex,” he translated.

Flushing more, Dirk’s head bobbed up and down. “And don’t get me wrong, I would never judge nor discriminate based on merely a sliver of people’s lives, however while I fully accept what they do, it’s rather, or might I even say incredibly, fantastically, _exceedingly_ distracting, particularly when I am attempting to sleep, and even more so when they decide to partake in this strenuous activity for the _entire_ night.”

“Huh,” Todd said. “So you were gonna break in and sleep, what, on my couch or something?”

“Exactly!” Dirk said, beaming.

“And in the morning, when whoever lives in the apartment you broke into wakes up and sees a stranger sleeping on their couch, you were planning on—what—just leaving?”

“Very good question, Todd!” Dirk said. “My initial planning did not think that far into the future.”

“You didn’t—how do you not _think_ about something like that? You just broke into a stranger’s apartment!”

Dirk shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Todd eyed him disbelievingly. “How did you even get to the balcony?”

“I jumped,” Dirk said, as casually as he were saying ‘I walked’.

Todd’s eyes flickered to the open window and the curtain fluttering in the wind. “Are you drunk, high, or just insane?”

“D! None of the above,” Dirk said cheerfully. “Just a little adventurous.”

“A little,” Todd said faintly, and then leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “So, what do you plan on doing now?”

“To… have Todd Brotzman generously lend me the couch to sleep on for the night, preferably without any pen-stabbing?”

Todd nearly laughed. He looked at Dirk Gently and shook his head. “No.”

He hadn’t realized how brightly Dirk’s eyes shone until they dulled, now, face falling. He felt a burst of guilt so out of place he nearly regretted his words. “Todd,” Dirk said, sounding so pitiful Todd needed to look away.

“I can’t,” Todd said. 

“You know I won’t do anything,” Dirk coaxed. “I promise. I just—I need a place to crash for the night. I don’t even need a blanket, and I’ll leave early next morning. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Todd didn’t know why he felt so reluctant saying no to something that, by theory and by past experience, he should be able to just slam the metaphorical door in the face of. Maybe it was something to do with the puppy-eyes Dirk was now pulling. But so many things had happened so quickly that his temple was beginning to ache, and one of his eyelids were twitching: a tell-tale sign that if anything more happened tonight, it wasn’t going to end pretty. 

“I’m sorry,” Todd said, surprised at how genuinely sorry he actually was. “I just—I can’t, Dirk. I don’t know who you are or what you do, and I just—I don’t do this.” He felt frustration sharp on his tongue. “I can’t.”

Because now that nearly all of the adrenaline had drifted away somewhere into the air, and some of the residual shock had begun to fade as well, Todd was left with his default emotions taking the precedent once more: worry and trepidation and anxiety teeming like ants down his spine. In fact, he couldn’t believe that he managed to hold a conversation just now, and how natural it had been. It was wildly ironic that the best conversation he’d had with someone since who knows how long was brought on by someone breaking into his apartment. For a moment, then, it made him forget: forget that he couldn’t, didn’t, talk to people. Not when he could help it, because he tended to stutter or stumble and say all the wrong things that made his chest go tight and his breathing go shallow. And now that he had noticed it, the ease and smoothness that filled him with that buoyant feeling floated away into a dull awkwardness. 

Maybe something on his face gave away the desperation he was feeling, because Dirk seemed to understand. He swallowed, and then his face rose again in a sunny smile—though now that Todd had seen the original, it was painfully obvious that it was a weak mimicry, a far cry from the real thing.

“It’s alright,” Dirk said, his voice soft.

“Try earbuds?” Todd offered, a weak, trembling olive branch. 

The line of Dirk’s mouth tightened just barely, as if holding back a grimace. “Perhaps,” he said, and started heading back to the balcony.

Watching him leave, Todd inexplicably felt a surge of disappointment at himself, as if he had let Dirk down by meeting his expectations rather than exceeding them. Stupid. He shook his head for the umpteenth time, even though Dirk couldn’t possibly see.

“Thanks for not brutally stabbing me to death with a pen,” Dirk called out when he reached the door. In parting, he offered a small, crooked smile, before shutting the door closed and disappearing from view.

It was only after Todd had calmed himself down with a cup of hot tea and was back in bed, nearly about to fall asleep with the winding down of adrenaline leaving work-weary bones, when the thought popped into his head that Dirk could’ve just gone out through the front door. Todd had only known Dirk for ten short, action-packed minutes, but he would be willing to bet that Dirk had done it to increase the dramatism of his exit.

It was a shame, really. Maybe it had only been a few minutes, but for a moment there, Todd had felt… something. He couldn’t quite pin it down, but it was small and hot and fluttering, and had it not been so quickly swallowed by the thick awkwardness he’d regained after losing the adrenaline, it might’ve grown into something special. If things were different, maybe. If Todd wasn’t the way he was.

He let out a small sigh, and fell asleep to thoughts of his bizarre apartment neighbour and a tiny, tiny tendril of regret that he let him go.

-+-+-+-

Whisk-y Business was a classy, snappy bakery snug between a flower shop and an accounting office downtown, just a few blocks from the local university. Todd had gotten the job at the bakery over a year ago, and compared to the extensive half-dozen-long list of all the past jobs he’d worked after he’d dropped out of college in order to pay Amanda’s tuition (car washer, hotel clerk, gas station employee—and _boy_ did he have stories), getting up at the asscrack of dawn was a small price to pay in exchange for what was undoubtedly his best job so far. Over time, he’d even grown to be good friends with the manager, a gruff old man named Max whose knobby, wrinkled hands made the prettiest pastries Todd had ever seen.

Max was already in the building when Todd unlocked the door the next morning and wandered into the back, pouring a mixture of chopped walnuts and dried cranberries into a stand mixer full of bread dough. A speaker propped up at the corner of the table blared something classic rock, twanging guitar and drums.

“Fall special?” Todd inquired, grabbing his apron and tying it around his waist.

Grunting in acknowledgement, Max handed the bowl to him. “Wash,” he said.

Todd took it without a word and carried it to the sink. What had originally been irritation at the man’s curtness had grown into a pleasant acceptance, and Todd found that he now came to appreciate the conciseness and ease in which they communicated in the kitchen: a mutual agreement in which there was no need for pleasantries. He couldn’t help but smile when he remembered Dirk Gently’s endless barrage of words, and he imagined just how uncomfortable he would be in a situation like this, undoubtedly sprouting sentences and sentences of nonsense and drabble just to fill up the empty space.

Todd finished washing the bowl along with some other utensils lying in the sink, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work. The hours passed in a haze of baking, cleaning, and prepping for the store’s opening at eight. Todd fed the sourdough starter, then prepped another batch of crusty bread to be baked later that afternoon. He mixed up a buttery strudel crumble and sprinkled it atop some blueberry muffins Max had finished making, then put the batch into the oven. 

After opening shop, the rest of the morning passed in a similar fashion, Todd happily sinking into the comforting routine of measuring, mixing, and washing up. He had manned the front cashier for a few times before, but found that ultimately he preferred working back here—handling customers made his head hurt and his throat pinhole tight. Considering he was becoming one of the best bakers in the house, all modesty aside, no one argued with his decision to stick backstage.

When lunch hour rolled around, things got considerably busier as all the students came streaming in for a midday snack before their next class. It was a golden spot for the bakery, not too far from the university to guarantee a steady income from students, and their prices were easily modest, even for your average broke college student. Todd turned the speaker's volume to a minimum so that he could take instructions from the front with ease, catching the occasional student gossip or the latest professor determined to make their students’ lives a living hell.

“Brotzman!” he heard Farah call out from the front cashier. “We’re short on blueberry pastries!”

Todd’s hand paused right in the middle of pouring carrot cake batter into a cake tin, and he watched as a splotch ambled down the rim of the mixing bowl and splattered onto the table. “Coming!” he called out, swiftly grabbing a rubber spatula. He scraped the rest of the batter into the tin before placing it into the oven, and on the way to the entrance leading to the outer area of the bakery, he grabbed a fresh tray of golden pastries, speckled with blueberries and drizzled with a purplish-pink berry glaze. Carrying it carefully, he stepped out the kitchen and began to restock the shelf of them that were on display.

It was a busy hour, and the elevated volume of chatter and the sheer amount of people in the room made his palms sweaty and him eager to retreat to the backdrops once more. He had just finished restocking, carrying the empty tray and hurrying back towards the kitchen, when he heard a thick, loud, posh, exceeding familiar British accent.

"They were _so loud,_ Tina! It sounded like they were attempting to recreate a gladiator battle from Ancient Rome, and for some reason they felt the absolutely _inane_ urge to _narrate_ every single bloody thing they were doing! It was like Fifty Shades on LSD, I swear!"

His heart beating a loud rhythm in his ears, Todd dared to cast a glance towards the voice.

Dirk Gently, clad in a fiery-red leather jacket, was sitting at the closest table to the bakery display, yammering the ear off of a short girl with braided blonde hair standing next to him.

“I will say with utter conviction that, had I stayed in my room for any longer, I would've gone positively mad,” Dirk ranted, hands flying through the air.

“So what did you do?” The girl, Tina, asked intently.

There was a pastry on a plate sitting untouched in front of Dirk: blueberry cream cheese, Todd noted; he'd baked those an hour ago. “What any normal, sane human would've done. I jumped across the balcony to my _other_ neighbour's apartment and picked the sliding door. Obviously.”

Tina looked impressed. “Sick, dude.”

“Mm,” Dirk said, shrugging. “Anyway, the guy living there, Todd, caught me. Which isn't very surprising because I banged my knee on the door getting in and was overall not very inconspicuous in the slightest.”

“And did he let you crash?”

Dirk made a face. “Nope.”

Tina made a face in return. “Eh. Dick.”

Dirk shrugged. “It was fine. I’ve stayed up longer.” His expression perked back up. “But the neighbours went on _all night._ I must say that, although not pleased, I am quite impressed at their stamina and perseverance, because _honestly,_ the things they were doing! If you’ve heard them—”

Todd had heard enough. The endless chatter of the bakery had risen to a buzz in his ears. He gripped the empty tray hard, head ducked down in embarrassment, and turned back, wanting, needing, to get out of there as fast as he could.

Which was obviously the same time as Farah suddenly turned in order to grab something off the counter opposite to the cash register. Todd heard a sharp, surprised yelp as they collided, a fresh burst of pain sparking at his nose.

“Oh my god, Todd, are you okay?” he heard Farah faintly over the fog that had spread over his senses.

“M’fine,” Todd mumbled, gently prodding at his nose and finding a painful throb. “Sorry.”

 _“Todd?”_ A new, posh, exceedingly British voice asked.

Fuck. Todd closed his eyes and tried to recentre himself.

“You know him?” he heard Farah ask.

“Know him? I’m his apartment neighbour!” Todd heard a scuffling, and then a new pair of hands were on him, slender warm fingers grazing his chin. “Todd? Are you okay?”

Hiding a grimace, Todd opened his eyes to worried blue eyes. “M’good,” he said. “Hey, Dirk.”

Upon hearing his response, Dirk’s face blew into a relieved smile. “Hi! You work here?”

“Yeah,” Todd said.

“That is so cool,” Dirk declared. “Hey, Farah? Can Todd here take a quick break?”

“No,” Todd said vehemently. “I—I need to go back to the kitchen.”

Farah crossed her arms. Her perfectly-drawn eyebrows were raised high, gaze darting back and forth between Todd and Dirk. They settled on Todd, where a clear curiosity was present. “Do you, though? Didn’t you already put the cakes in the oven?”

“Um,” Todd said.

Farah rolled her eyes. “Take a break. Max won’t mind.”

“Phenomenal!” Dirk said, and the look on his face was so eager that Todd, despite his ratcheting heart, found himself following him to the table he had been sitting at, where Tina was waiting. 

“Tina!” Dirk said, once they’d reached the table. “This is Todd! The guy I was talking to you about!”

Todd shuffled his feet and looked away, Tina’s words about him bouncing around in his head. “Hi, Tina,” he settled on, not meeting her eyes.

“Yo,” Tina said, her voice cheery and holding none of the emotions that someone who thought they were talking to a so-called ‘dick’ would have. Todd looked at her with curiosity to find her face open and smiling, as if she’d completely forgotten about her earlier comment. Or maybe she was just baked. Her pupils were huge.

Dirk plopped himself down onto his own seat, and then put all his weight on one side of the chair so that he was balanced precariously, and leaned in closer to Todd. “Todd Brotzman, so tell me: were you the creator of these blueberry cream-cheese strudels?”

“I am,” Todd said tentatively. “Do you like them?”

In response, Dirk settled back properly onto the chair, took a forkful of the strudel, and stuck it in his mouth. And then he moaned so loudly half the store turned their way.

Tina thought it was the funniest thing ever, and then she said, “My turn! My turn!” and tore off a corner with her bare hands. She closed her eyes and the noise she made made the remaining half of the store turn around.

“Oh, my God,” Todd said, feeling strangely violated. Farah, at the cashier, had a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

“I’ll have what they’re having,” the person ordering from Farah said.

Dirk opened his eyes and looked pleased at Todd’s red-faced embarrassment. “That’s how I feel about them,” he said.

“Good to know,” Todd said faintly. “I can make them more often?”

“Yes. For sure. Abso—WAIT.” Dirk’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Can you bake these at home? At your apartment?”

Oh no. “Oh no,” Todd said. “Dirk, I bake for six hours every day at work, I cannot bake more at home.”

“I think you can,” Dirk said.

“I really, really can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I—Dirk, no!” Todd sputtered. He needed to get back to the kitchen. “Seriously, what are you trying to do here?”

Dirk frowned just a little, cocking his head like a spaniel. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Todd said, and waved a hand in between the two of them. “Why are you—why are you talking to me?”

Dirk’s frown grew more prominent. “I’m talking to you because I want to,” he said, voice growing slow.

“Why?” Todd said, honestly. It wasn’t a surprise that he had zero to none social skills, made even more blatantly obvious by the overeager, hyper-charisma Dirk contained. After that unwelcome welcome he had given Dirk last night, he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t possible to toe everything under the carpet of Reasons Why Todd Can’t Talk to People and move on with his life.

Dirk seemed to study Todd for a moment, his mouth pulling into a thoughtful line. “Because I like you,” he finally said. “And I want to get to know you better.” He smiled. “Come over tonight. I’ll make you dinner.”

“What?” Todd floundered.

Dirk’s smile turned a touch askew. “That is, if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

“I…” Dirk’s expression was maddeningly unreadable: the only constant being that soft, enigmatic smile. Todd couldn’t even tell if he was interested like _that,_ or if he was simply being friendly in a strange, _Dirk_ -like sort of way.

But either way, no matter what, Todd would still have to say no. Because he’d only known Dirk for a short few minutes, but he could already tell you that Dirk was bubbly, energized, extroverted, and essentially everything that Todd _wasn’t._ Sooner or later, Dirk was going to realize it—and in order to save his dignity and lessen the disappointment, Todd wanted so very badly for it to be later rather than sooner.

“I can’t,” he said, and then his stupid brain made him add on, “I’m busy.”

Todd couldn’t tell if Dirk believed him or not, only that he looked downcast, but begrudging. He shrugged. “I’ll get you there,” he said.

Todd didn’t know how to respond to that, so he jerked a thumb back towards the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. “I gotta get back to work, now,” he explained.

Dirk smiled at him again. He smiled a lot. “Of course! See you around.”

“Good to see you, Dirk, Nice to meet you, Tina.”

“Bye, Todd!” Tina sing-songed, and Dirk wiggled his fingers at him cheerily all the way to the kitchen.

-+-+-+-

It wasn’t raining today. It wasn’t sunny either: rather, the sky was a dull smear of soot and ash, covered in a panel of thin streaking clouds. Todd was avoiding the cracks in the sidewalks down the alleyway, thinking about texting Amanda and telling her about the strange encounters he’d had with a particular Dirk Gently, when he heard it again. That tiny, mewling sound.

Before he realized it, he was opening the cardboard box. The lid seemed untouched from his prior position, stiff with dried-up moisture from the previous storm.

The kitten hadn’t moved. When the greying light hit its fur, it didn’t even stir. Its chest was moving dangerously slow. No mother would leave a child unattended like this, not if she was planning for it to stay alive.

Suddenly and utterly stricken with a nonsensical urge, Todd reached out and cupped his hand over the mass of trembling, quivering fur. The poor thing was so cold, and shaking so hard. When Todd touched it, it mewled again, but quieter this time, a greeting rather than a cry. Like it knew it had been discovered.

Or it was losing its energy, Todd thought, dashing away his newfound lyrical tendencies in favour of more logical, more rational thoughts. He remembered how weak it was the day before. Tentatively, he stroked the kitten’s neck, searching for a collar, though a part of him knew there wouldn’t be one even before he found that out.

He took another look around: nobody in sight. He studied the cardboard box: on its side, it read a faded, bright-bubbled message: _Campbell’s Tomato Soup: 24-Pack._ Well then.

“Who did this to you, hm?” he mused out loud as he reached in with both hands, lightly scooping up the kitten in his grasps. “Leaving you all alone. What happened to your parents?”

The kitten made another pitiful noise in response, squirming before Todd gently shushed it and ran his fingers lightly across the scruff of its neck. Then it seemed to understand, at least at a visceral level: _Box cold. Hands warm. Warm good._ It nuzzled its face against Todd’s knuckles. Its fur was clumped and black all over. There were no visible injuries, although it was definitely weakened from the cold and the wet. Its eyes weren’t even opened yet. Todd felt something rare and soft light up inside of him as he protectively cradled the kitten inside both hands. Not a difficult task—it was the size of a rather small orange. Not even.

Todd took a final surveying of his surroundings. No angry mother cat sprang out at him from a dark corner, vindictive for kitten-napping revenge. He looked back at the kitten in his arms: it was barely moving—another day, and kitten-napping or not, it wouldn’t survive.

Impromptu decision or not, Todd made his choice. 

“Let’s get you someplace warm,” he whispered, and diverted his path from back to his apartment to his car, now walking at a slightly faster pace, careful not to slip in the discarded flyers that plastered themselves in the concrete. 

He remembered seeing an animal shelter not far away, and a quick googled revealed it to be closing in an hour. He walked fast and made it in ten minutes. The woman who worked there cooed sympathetically at the kitten and ran some check-ups before informing Todd that it was the runt of the litter, and had been abandoned. Todd remembered reading about the adoption rate of black cats—lower than any others—and then the woman showed Todd the shop’s stock of cat products, offered a sale, and half an hour later Todd found himself walking home with a kitten in his arms and a huge bag emblazoned with the logo for _Precious Paws._

At his apartment, he buried his nose into her fur whilst waiting for the elevator. She snuffled and snuggled deeper into the cradle of his elbows, smelling mildly of mildew and old ink. He felt a tiny thrill of nervousness rush through him as he thought about everything he’d need to provide, running through some numbers in his head. A part of him couldn’t believe what he just did, but another was reluctantly acceptant. He always had an affinity for strays, broken-winged birds and tiny rabbits growing up.

Did she need a name? He was always quite horrible with those.

 _Cat_ was his first thought.

Then, Catherine. Caterine? Catty?

He pushed that thought to the side as he reached his apartment, turning his focus to getting the kitten washed and fed and situated. It was only after she was curled up in a soft, fluffy bed that he felt good enough to relax. He sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone.

_Hypothetically, if you had a kitten, what would you name it?_

The response from Amanda came soon after he had gotten ready for bed.

**Todd, please don’t tell me you rescued a kitten off the streets.**

_Okay, I won’t._

**Goddamnit, Todd.**

_It was right there! And it was so tiny. And shivering. It was a pitiful sight. Amanda, look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same._

**I can’t.**

_See?_

**Also, Cat.**

_What?_

**Short for Catherine. You know I’m horrible at names.**

_I guess it runs in the family._

**Do you even know how to take care of a cat?**

**Like, at all?**

_Nope. Google does, though._

**Never trust Google. Remember when you had a headache and it told you you had a horrible disease and that you would die within the week?**

_Not funny, Amanda._

**So funny.**

_I cried for an hour._

**EXACTLY.**

_I called my babysitter and told her I loved her and that it was too late._

**Exactly!**

_Ugh._

**Case in point. Never trust Google. Find a hot vet instead.**

_Why do they have to be hot?_

**Because then you’ll finally go outside for once instead of hermiting at home eating ice cream and watching HIMYM until you pass out from a sugar overdose.**

_I did that one time. ONCE._

**One time too many. You need to put yourself out there, Todd!! SUIT UP!!!**

_Neil Patrick Harris is the only one who could wear a suit to a bar and pull it off._

**That’s just cause you have a crush on him.**

_No it’s not._

**Yes it is. I’ve seen your YouTube recommendations, Todd. Don’t lie to me.**

_you WHAT?!_

**Uhhhhh. I mean I totally haven’t.**

_AMANDA._

**You left your laptop open! It’s my god-given right as little sister to find as much blackmail material as I can, always, all the time!**

_That’s it. I’m not editing your thesis essay for you._

**TODD**

**NO PLEASE**

**Todd Brotzman have I ever told you how absolutely wonderful and fabulous of a big brother you are? You are positively scintillating. You are as brilliant as the blinding rays of the Sun. You deserve all the hot vets in the world.**

**TODD**

_Okay, fine, I’ll edit it._

**:D**

_If you stop using emoticons._

**Why?**

_They irritate me._

**Okay, Grumpy. I gotta go study now.**

_I miss you too, Amanda. I will. Good luck studying._

**Thanks, bro. Good luck with Cat.**

_I’ll need it._


	2. Chapter 2

Todd was beginning to wonder if the universe had developed some kind of personal vendetta against him and was now deliberately trying to thwart his attempts to stay away from the one and only Dirk Gently.

It had only been a mere couple of days after welcoming Cat into his home. That night as Todd returned from work, he hadn't figured out what was wrong immediately. It took him two episodes of Game of Thrones and a haphazardly-thrown together meal of canned sauce and pasta, finished and washed up, before he went to mix the cat milk formula to feed Cat and noticed that she wasn’t on his bed. Nor was she in the bathroom. Nor was she on the balcony, which Todd had left the door open for the fresh air and sunlight, and because he trusted her to have a better self-preservation instinct than to take a flying leap off the sixteenth floor.

But—oh, God, what if she had? Was Todd that bad of a pet owner? Was he unintentionally making her entire life miserable and she thought it was her only escape?

Two more thorough searches through his entire apartment, and Todd came to three conclusions. One, that Cat preferred an untimely death as opposed to a miserable life in Todd’s apartment. Two, that a cat burglar had broken into his apartment in the middle of the day and whisked Cat off into some kitty jail. Three, that Mrs. Fritz from across the hall had caught a glimpse of Cat somehow and decided that she needed to be added to her extensive collection of half a dozen cats.

He was just amping himself up to head across and knock on her door with some choice words when someone knocked on his own.

He swung open the door without thinking, and froze. _“Dirk?”_

“Hi!” said Dirk Gently, with a dazzling smile that wavered when he caught sight of Todd's frazzled face. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Todd said.

“Uh,” Dirk said. “Why?” He was wearing a cerulean blue jacket with yellow bands around his biceps, and Todd wondered briefly how many different jackets he had and how he managed to actually look decent in such clashing colours. He appeared to be holding something inside it, keeping it shut with one arm pressed across where it bulged out around his chest.

“Someone stole my cat,” Todd said. “I mean, it's not _my_ cat but it wasn't anyone's, so I took it, but whatever.” He sighed miserably. “What’s up? Did you need anything?”

Dirk’s face was twisted into a strange expression. He wouldn't meet Todd's eyes.

“Dirk?” Todd asked.

“Uh,” Dirk said. “You know what, nevermind. I forgot why I came.”

He quickly turned to leave when the bulge in his chest meowed. His face paled. “Bollocks,” he said eloquently.

“Dirk,” Todd said, sounding a lot more calm than he felt. “Is my cat in your jacket?”

Dirk was silent for a pregnant pause, and then he opened his mouth and said, _“Well—”_

Todd crossed the space between them in a few short steps, reached into Dirk's jacket, and retrieved a protesting Cat from its grasps.

Todd performed a cursory onceover of his cat and found everything unharmed. In fact, Cat was squirming in his arms, pitifully meowing and casting a wistful look in the direction of Dirk.

“Huh,” Todd said, and bent down and placed her on the floor. She meowed gratefully before scampering over to Dirk, where she began clawing at Dirk's ankles until he picked her up and cuddled her inside his jacket again. 

“Huh,” Todd said again, and snorted. “Ungrateful brat.”

Dirk looked helplessly at where Cat was nuzzling and purring into his chest. “Not that I'm not flattered, darling, but you're not helping my case here,” he murmured to the cat, before turning his attention back to Todd. “I can explain!” he said.

Todd leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “Do it fast,” he suggested… and then immediately regretted his choice of words.

“After my last class at four I worked on a case study at the library, and then I went home at around six to make dinner because I was _starving,_ who knew typing was so exhausting, am I right, and I made grilled sesame-crusted salmon with a mint sauce and rice pilaf because I had leftover rice from when I made soup yesterday and I was just craving fish for some reason, I think maybe it's because I saw an ad for Finding Dory on my way home, which sounds really bad when I put it that way so just forget I said that completely.

“Anyway, fish smells really strong, you know, so I opened the sliding doors to the balcony to let it air out a little, and then afterwards I was eating my salmon when your cat comes in from—wait for it _—the balcony._ She just came in and jumped onto the table and started eating my dinner! And I was like, _hold on,_ haven't I seen you before?

“And it meowed at me like it was answering me, and then I remembered it was yours, so I googled if cats could have sesame seeds and they can so I gave it half my fish and finished eating and now here I am.”

Dirk only sounded _slightly_ out of breath, which Todd found incredibly impressive.

“Okay,” Todd said.

“Okay?” Dirk said.

Todd shrugged. “I forgive you.”

“What?” Dirk said, and then, in a louder voice, “No way! I have to make it up to you!”

“Huh? How?”

Dirk pretended to think for a moment before brightening and raising one finger. “I’ll make you dinner!”

Feeling like they had been heading in completely different directions, Todd recoiled. “What?”

“Let me make you the salmon dinner, because then it’s an even exchange! Your cat was lured in by the same thing I would use to apologize to you. It’s _full circle._ How symbolic!” On the word _symbolic,_ Dirk flung his hands out and wiggled his fingers in a dramatic rendition of jazz hands.

“Seriously?” Todd asked.

Dirk nodded. “It’s like the universe _meant_ for this to happen,” he said eagerly.

“I’m… not too sure about that,” Todd said.

“Pshaw,” Dirk said. “Come over for dinner. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And, okay, Todd was _completely_ poised to say no, but he took another look at Dirk’s puppy eyes and sunshine smile and what came out of his mouth instead was, “Okay.”

Dirk’s smile widened and, against all odds, Todd found himself reciprocating it.

“What day works best for you?” Todd asked.

Tapping a finger against his chin, Dirk responded, “Are you dead-set on salmon? Because I never make the same meal two days in a row because I’m afraid I’ll get sick of it, but I don’t have a schedule, so the only way that would work is if the day I feel like making salmon I’ll just hop on over and knock?”

“Or I could just come over tomorrow for whatever dish you’ll make,” Todd suggested.

Dirk blinked. “Or that.”

“Sounds good,” Todd said. “Is six okay?”

“Perfect,” Dirk chirped. “I’ll see you then, Todd.”

“Yeah,” Todd said. “I’ll, um. I’ll have my cat back now.”

Dirk pawed at the squirming bundle of fur in his jacket until it gave up its fight, mewing in disappointment as Dirk handed her over. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he cooed softly. “You stay safe, alright? Listen to Todd. He only wants the best for you. But if you ever get sick of that same canned meals, you know what to do—just hop back earlier next time.” He turned his head up to face Todd and winked.

“You’re a bad influence,” Todd murmured, taking the cat into his arms, stroking the soft fur between her ears. “She only likes you better because you had better food.”

“That may be accurate,” Dirk said. “Further proven by the fact that I smell like salmon right now. This little kitty was trying to chew my shirt right off. Weren’t you, Jaws?”

“Jaws?” Todd said. “Her name’s Cat.”

Dirk burst out laughing.

He stopped when he realized Todd wasn’t laughing along. “Wait, seriously?”

“I’m not good with names,” Todd mumbled in a weak defence.

Dirk scrunched up his nose. “Well, this little rascal nearly chewed my hand off when I tried to get her off the table. Sharp teeth, this one. Jaws fits _perfectly.”_

Todd stared long and hard at the cat in his arms, and sighed. “Anything’s better than Cat,” he supposed. “Come on, Jaws, let’s get you back home.” He directed his attention back to Dirk, who looked much too gleefully pleased for Todd’s liking. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dirk.”

“Goodnight, Todd,” Dirk said, still smiling hard and bright all the way until Todd closed the door.

Leaning back against the doorframe, Todd tweaked Jaws’s ears and nuzzled his nose into the top of her head, feeling bewilderment rise higher and higher within him. What had he done? Had he just agreed to dinner? _Tomorrow night?_

It must be Dirk Gently, he concluded. Something about the way he spoke too fast and took too many turns in the conversation made it too much for Todd to overthink things like he usually did, to be able to turn things over until it was worked down to the bone. With Dirk, Todd felt raw, intrinsic, stripped open. Rapid-fire reactions.

“What am I doing?” he said aloud. Jaws purred in response, and Todd felt the vibration all through his chest.

-+-+-+-

Dinner turned out to be chicken marsala, buttery and tender, with soft chewy naan scorched black and crunchy on the edges. When Todd had his first bite of naan wrapped around a spoonful of chicken, he closed his eyes and made a valiant effort not to make any embarrassing noises.

“Oh my god,” he said, after he had finished that bite, and another, and another. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”

Dirk was eating his own plate with much less vigour, seemingly more interested in Todd than the food, looking very pleased with himself at Todd’s reaction (so maybe he hadn’t done a very good job at concealing his noises). “I wouldn’t call it hiding insofar as a lack of opportunity. See, if you’d agreed to come over for dinner that day at the bakery, this would’ve happened much sooner.”

“Well,” Todd said softly, “I’m glad I did. Come over, that is. This is amazing, how did you learn to cook?”

Dirk shrugged, uncharacteristically modest. “I just kind of picked it up,” he said. “How did _you_ learn to bake?”

“Necessity,” Todd said, wiping his mouth. “I do work at a bakery, after all. But, yeah, now that you’re saying that, I guess I used to bake with Amanda.”

“Amanda?”

“My sister. Believe it or not, it was actually me who was the one forcing her to help me in the kitchen. Amanda was the one who always wanted to play outside with water guns.” Todd smiled at the memory. “When I was twelve and she was nine, we set our toaster on fire once trying to make cookies in it.”

“No way!” Dirk said. “I did the same thing!” He paused. “Except I was twenty. And the cookies were a pizza.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Dirk grinned. “Why do you think I had to move to this apartment?”

As the meal progressed, Todd was once again astonished at how easily words seemed to come. Todd learned that Dirk was studying his fourth year majoring in Law, to which he hid how impressed he was with a quip: “So, what, you talk their ear off until they give up and say you’re right?” to which Dirk had only grinned and replied, “Astoundingly accurate.”

Anything he said, Dirk seemed to bounce it back effortlessly, with a cheesy quip or a parallel anecdote. He picked up on Todd’s nerdy references without a blink of an eye, and provided seamless support and retaliation.

Todd found himself constantly waiting for something to go wrong—because something always did. 

When dessert came and Dirk gathered their plates before Todd presented the plate of earl-grey shortbread he’d “accidentally” made too much of that day at work, Todd found himself watching Dirk’s reaction with trepidation. Maybe he was allergic to traces of bergamot oil in earl grey tea leaves. Maybe he’d choke. Maybe he’d find it way too sweet, but would need to pretend he liked it to not hurt Todd’s feelings but was going to pour it all out the window the instant he left. 

A piece disappeared into Dirk’s mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and looked at Todd with a serious set to his mouth.

“Marry me,” Dirk said solemnly, and without another word took a second piece.

Todd felt a blush crawl up his face at the same time the fog of worry was lifted off his shoulders. “It’s just shortbread,” he said. “It’s really easy.”

“Yeah,” Dirk said with his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed, before continuing to speak. “And my law midterm in two weeks is just a piece of paper with some fancy words on it. It’s super easy.”

“Smartass,” Todd muttered, but he was smiling. The next line leaped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Y’know, I can teach you sometime. Like. If you wanted to, that is.”

Dirk’s head shot up, eyes bright. “Really?”

Again without permission, Todd nodded.

Dirk’s face split into a beam. “Oh my gosh, that would be fantastic! Ohhh, can we make cupcakes? I love cupcakes. With blue frosting and rainbow sprinkles. Pretty pretty please?”

“I… Yeah, sure,” Todd muttered. “Maybe this weekend.”

Dirk squealed. Like a teenage girl. Todd would never admit it to himself how endearing-slash-adorable it was. He smiled to himself, and then took a cookie and nibbled at it absentmindedly. It wasn’t even that good. Kind of dry, not enough salt. But Dirk seemed to like it well enough, and that seemed to override all his critiques.

After a moment, Todd caught Dirk watching him. “What?”

“You should come over for dinner again,” Dirk said.

The cookie nearly crumbled beneath the sudden squeeze of Todd’s fingers. “Why?” he said without thinking.

“I thought we’d discussed this already,” Dirk said. “Because I like you?” He smiled again, and this time it held enough fondness that even Todd could make it out.

Todd swallowed hard, and then said, “What are you asking for, here, Dirk? Because I—” His words tumbled over one another, suddenly hasty. “I need you to be clear with me. Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dirk’s face was serious, now. “I just want to get to know you better,” he said quietly. “Just as friends—if that’s what you want. Or, erm, acquaintances who occasionally talk to each other and come over for dinner?” His face was hopeful, slightly playful, and rather than the instinctive anxiousness that Todd expected, he felt something warm stir inside him. 

Maybe he could do this, after all. With Dirk. To tread that one small step past the bold black line of comfort he’d drawn for himself that grew tighter and tighter every day.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Okay. I can do that.”

Dirk beamed. For the thousandth time since Dirk had barrelled through the balcony doors and into his life, Todd wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

-+-+-+-

“Okay, no, look— _scrape_ the bowl. Just take the spatula and _scrape.”_

“I’m trying!” Dirk made furious stabbing motions at the bowl in a way that was decidedly not scraping. “Oh, shit, there’s a hair in there, gross—” Taking out the spatula and resting it directly on the counter, letting the batter drip all over the place, he rolled up his sleeves and went in for the kill.

“Oh my god, Dirk,” Todd said, trying not to laugh as he watched Dirk pull out the aforementioned hair before trying to flick it away, effectively sending the batter coating his fingers flying through the air in tiny droplets. “Stop! You’re getting it all over me!”

“What, scared of getting your hands dirty?” Dirk teased, wiggling his fingers threateningly.

“Dude,” Todd said, “Says the one who washes their hands after cutting every single vegetable.”

“The flavours can’t mingle!”

“It was a fucking stir fry! It was supposed to mix!”

“Not before the _fry!”_ Dirk said, and, for emphasis, flicked his fingers at Todd again. “In fact, one might go as far to say that it should be called a _fry stir_ instead of the other way around!”

“Okay, Gordon Ramsay,” Todd muttered, and grabbed the nearest object off the counter to whap Dirk’s forehead with it, lightly, jokingly. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that this nearest object was the spatula.

Dirk froze in shock and went crossed-eyed watching the batter drip down his nose.

Todd froze, too. _“Shit,”_ he said. “I’m so sorry—”

Dirk sunk his hands into the bowl of batter, pulled it out, and chucked a handful of sweet-sticky batter directly at Todd’s head.

“Holy _FUCK,”_ Todd yelled, feeling something disgustingly cold and gooey dribble down the back of his neck. 

Dirk looked at his covered hands as if just realizing what he’d done, and then looked back to Todd.

Then, he laughed hysterically.

“Oh my god,” he said, words punctuated by ever-growing giggles. “You—you look like—” He dissolved into inarticulate wheezes.

Todd wiped his hand across his eyes so that he could gape at Dirk better, trying for an intimidating glare but knowing full-heartedly that it failed miserably. “You just wasted all the cupcake batter! There was a whole tablespoon of vanilla extract in that!”

Dirk just laughed harder, clutching his stomach and bending over as he wheezed and pointed. “You look like that guy in the little baby’s ice cream commercial!” he finally managed to say.

“The fucking _what?”_ Todd said.

“Your face!” Dirk choked out.

“Okay, that’s it,” Todd said, and wrung out a handful of sticky batter from his hair before throwing it back at Dirk.

Dirk cried out in surprise and stared at Todd, open-mouthed, the batter a bulls-eye, smack-dab in the middle of his t-shirt. Then, a slow smile crawled across his face, a glint shining in his eye.

Todd had enough time to think, _Oh no,_ before Dirk grabbed the bowl of flour that was supposed to be folded into the batter. Todd slammed his eyes shut out of instinct and ducked, but Dirk, predicting it, followed him down and poured the flour all over his head and down his shirt.

When Todd reopened his eyes, he felt his eyelids wrinkle with the flour coated over them.

He looked at Dirk silently. Dirk covered his mouth with one hand. “Now you look like the Michelin man,” he whispered with cruel, cruel glee.

Todd’s gaze drifted over to the bag of powdered sugar on the counter.

“Oh no,” Dirk said, but it was too late.

Five minutes later, the oven beeped.

“Would you look at that,” Todd said, spitting cupcake batter from his mouth. “The oven’s finished preheating.”

“So we can put the nonexistent cupcakes in the oven now?” Dirk asked, brushing clumps of flour from his hair.

Todd laughed, and then sighed, making his way to the sink. “This is going to be a fucking nightmare to clean.”

Dirk plucked at the hem of his shirt and made a face. _“Let’s bake cupcakes,_ you said. _It would be easy,_ you said.”

_[image attachment]_

**Holy shit! Is that your kitchen?**

_Before and after Dirk tried to bake in it._

**How long did that take you to clean?**

_Too long._

**He’s a keeper.**

-+-+-+-

Todd once read an article on the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon: a psychological effect dictating that, once one learns a concept, whether that be a word, saying, celebrity, or otherwise, they begin seeing it everywhere, despite the explicit occurrences of that concept being present in their surroundings staying the same as it once did.

He wondered if he was experiencing this phenomenon now. At the grocery store, he’d see a bright-yellow mango the exact same shade of his jacket. At the bakery, the blueberries made him wince and his nose ache on a lingering memory. It was starting to get ridiculous.

Although he would admit that part of it could be due to the fact that Dirk _did_ come around to the bakery more often nowadays, after Todd had given him the OK to occupy a table for hours upon hours while sipping on long-cooled coffee and rapidly typing up a paper due right after lunch. 

Sometimes Todd stayed late at the bakery, working alone in the big kitchen while the rest of the employees gradually dropped off, lingering behind to knead an overnight loaf or ice sugar cookies, so that they would be dried and stackable the next morning. Due to this, he’d gradually grown into being unofficially assigned as the one to close up the shop.

As the day trickled away, Max clapped his hands and announced in his curt, brief tone for everyone to get out. All the employees began packing up and saying their goodbyes to Todd, one by one. After doing his usual sweep of the back, Todd wandered to the front of the bakery and saw Dirk sitting at his usual table, attention completely flung to the wind. He hadn’t seemed to notice that everyone in the bakery was gone except for two people.

Wandering close, Todd said his name quietly, then louder, then reached out a hand to tentatively tap his shoulder.

Dirk startled and slammed his laptop shut. He turned and did a double-take as he noticed his surroundings, and then a triple-take as he noticed Todd.

“Hey,” Todd said. “We’re, uh, closing up.”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Shit. This is due tomorrow morning. What day is it? It’s Saturday. Shit! What time is it? Too late. The library’s closed. Bollocks!” Dirk looked at Todd as if he were just realizing he wasn’t alone. “Did I say that out loud? I’m sorry, it’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten any shut-eye and frankly I may be coming down with a case of the sillies, but all of that’s—” He made a dismissive flapping gesture with his hand. “I seem to have displaced my mind to mouth filter during the process. All’s fine and dandy, I assure you.”

Dirk stood up from his chair and then immediately sat back down, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Woah. Serious head rush.” 

While Dirk (more slowly) stood back up and began packing up, Todd bit his lip with worry. “Are you okay?” he approached.

“Define _okay,”_ Dirk said. “I have a project due in two days that I’m only about, hmm, five percent finished, but I’m rather used to that, I’ve found. But it’s _Saturday,_ and Saturdays—well. Saturdays have a high probability of my neighbours having more of their high-decibel, er, _love-making,_ so it would be a miracle if I don’t spend tonight uncomfortably turned-on and feeling utterly, horrifically violated.” He blinked, zoning back in on Todd. “Oh, I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“You were literally talking to me,” Todd said. “How was I not supposed to hear it.”

Dirk barked out a laugh and patted Todd on the shoulder. “Touché, darling,” he said, the endearment slipping so casually that Todd nearly missed it. By the time he realized, Dirk had finished packing up.

Maybe it was the way that the way Dirk said _darling_ made Todd’s insides go all jittery, because Todd watched Dirk for a moment, and then without further thought, blurted out, “You can come over to my place.”

Dirk stilled and looked up, surprised.

“I mean,” Todd scrambled, backtracking, “I didn’t let you sleep over last time because I didn’t really know you, but I feel really bad about it, and you’d be able to focus better without, um, your neighbours, so—” He clapped his mouth shut. Goddamn, Dirk was rubbing off on him. “Yeah,” he ended awkwardly.

“Really?” Dirk’s voice was soft, with a tinge of hopefulness, and Todd thought that he really couldn’t back out now.

“Yeah,” Todd said, thinking that Amanda was going to have a _field day_ when he told her about this.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how I can repay you,” Dirk said. “Well actually I do. I could make you dinner! Again! Or, well, sometime after midterms because from now til end of next week I’m undoubtedly going to be, as Tina says, ‘grinding’ all day and night. Rain check on that gratitude repayment?”

“Er—no, you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense!” Dirk said, suddenly loud. “I’d have to repay you, obviously. But a rain check, for now. Why do they call it a rain check? What are they checking for in the rain? Acid?”

“What?” Todd said.

Dirk shook his head. “Sorry.” He shot Todd another one of those high-caliber grins. “Let’s go, shall we?”

On the way back to their apartment, Todd felt a rising curiosity and alarm at the way Dirk’s… well, _Dirk-ness,_ seemed to be even more high-powered than usual. He’d seen him on three cups of coffee downed in less than half an hour, and he had been less Dirk-like than this. Dirk had started off by telling Todd about the paper he was working on—Todd understood about twenty percent of it, and he wasn’t sure if the eighty percent he lost was due to Dirk’s unearthly tendency to ramble along and chase after a single tangent like a dog after a butterfly, or just the bulky academic jargon. Then he began educating Todd on the differences between UK, Australian, US, and Canadian grammar, and it all unravelled from there. Todd attempted to keep a weak grasp on the wandering, tangled, wildly meandering line of conversation that Dirk seemed to enjoy looping like a lasso and tying up in knots, around and around, occasionally jumping to an entirely different topic or daisy-chaining a whole bunch of them until he had wandered all the way back to the initial subject. By the time they reached the elevators, Todd felt dizzy, disorientated, and completely lost.

“Are you okay?” he couldn’t help but say, once they’d reached their floor and Dirk had managed to turn a monologue about elevator safety into a detailed step-by-step instruction on how to escape zip-ties, demonstration and all.

Dirk abruptly cut off in the middle of a sentence. “Pardon?”

That was rude. Todd wanted to kick himself. “It’s just that you usually aren’t this…” He shrugged.

Dirk’s face had gone strangely mechanic. “Aren’t this what?” he said.

Fuck. Todd scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Energetic?” he tried. “Talkative? More so than usual. I mean, not that I’m saying it’s bad or anything, I’m just.” Words tied themselves into knots in his mind and his tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth and he heard _stupid, stupid, why didn’t you just keep your mouth shut._ “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Dirk said, sounding odd, words clipped. “Was I talking too much again? I’m sorry. I know I can be overwhelming at times, and I hope you take no offense when I say—” He snapped his fingers. “And there it is again. Silly me.” He mimed drawing a zipper over his mouth and winked at Todd.

The two of them made their way down the hall. “It’s no problem, Dirk, seriously,” Todd said. “You’ve probably noticed I don’t say much, so it actually works out well.”

Dirk (who was trailing his fingers along the flower-lined wallpaper, tapping his index finger against every blossom that he touched) smiled at Todd, features softening from the unusually-stiff ones he had on prior. “Well then, I’m rather glad.”

Todd smiled back.

At their apartment, Dirk used the washroom while Todd wandered over to the kitchen, trying to decide on a dinner. Minutes later, he heard Dirk approach him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Making dinner,” Todd replied.

“What are you making?” Dirk asked.

“Dunno yet,” Todd said. “Probably soup.”

“Ooh, what kind?”

“Whatever kind is left,” Todd said, and started searching through his drawers.

“What do you mean?” Dirk asked.

When Todd straightened, he was holding a can in one hand and a can opener in the other. “I mean, whatever kind is left,” he repeated. “And it’s…” He squinted at the packaging. “Chicken noodle.”

Dirk looked at the can Todd held in his hands, his face slowly growing twisted. “Todd, please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

Todd huffed out a laugh as he started to open the tin can with the opener. “What? The cheapest brand of canned soup there is at the Metro?”

Dirk moaned in horror. _“Todd,”_ he said. “You’re killing me.” 

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Todd said as he poured the contents of the can into a bowl.

“I can’t look,” Dirk declared, flinging a hand over his eyes.

“Then leave the kitchen and go work on your paper,” Todd said, walking over to the microwave.

“This is blasphemy,” Dirk said. “Todd, I cannot stand for this behaviour. I will not condone it.” He made a strangled sound when he saw Todd put the bowl into the microwave. “At least use the stovetop! Jesus! How can you bake like a Martha Stewart reincarnate and then turn around and do _this!”_

Leaning on the countertop, Todd shrugged. “Baking’s easy,” he said. “Just follow the instructions. You can’t fuck it up. Cooking, on the other hand…” He saw the way Dirk was looking at the lit-up, humming microwave, and sighed. “Dude, seriously. Go work on your paper.”

Dirk pressed a hand to his chest to really drive in his point, and then he shook his head a final time before finally starting to walk out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

“One day!” he called out. “One day I’ll save you from the dark side!” 

“Looking forward to it,” Todd muttered, grabbing a spoon as the microwave beeped cheerfully.

Soup prepared, he carried it to the kitchen table as he opened his laptop and caught up on a few loose ends. He opened his email, and was surprised to find an unread email with an attachment from Amanda. He checked his phone, and smiled when he saw that he had a new text from her as well.

**EDIT MY ESSAY!!!!!**

Eager for the distraction, Todd immediately responded. _What will you give me in return?_

**My undying love and gratitude.**

_Sounds lame._

**:(**

  1. _I love you._



**No one uses “jk” anymore todd**

_I’ll stop once you stop using emoticons._

**Fine.**

_So apparently it’s midterm season, at least over here. How are you doing?_

**I haven’t slept in two days and eighty percent of my bloodstream is coffee.**

_You sound like Dirk._

**Who?**

**WHO???**

**TODD BROTZMAN**

**DID YOU ACTUALLY MAKE A FRIEND??**

**Or more than one ;)**

_First of all, you already broke your no emoticon rule._

_Second, I have friends—Farah and Max._

_Third, it’s not a big deal._

**Work friends don’t count.**

**Tell me everything. Is his name actually Dirk??**

_Yeah, Dirk Gently._

**Weird.**

_He’s a student at the university over here. Second-year law._

**Ooh. Weird, but smart.**

_He has a British accent._

**Weird, smart, and sexy.**

_Amanda!_

**What? Am I wrong? Wait, send me a pic!**

_I don’t have one._

**Take one!**

_I can’t, he’s working right now. On his midterm paper, so it is definitely not a good idea to distract him right now._

_Wait, nevermind. I just checked. He’s actually asleep. Which means it would be totally creepy, so no._

**…How did you know what he was doing?**

**Is he in your apartment?**

_Friends let other friends come over to their apartment all the time._

**Yeah, but not you. How long have you known this dude?**

_A few weeks, I think?_

**And you never thought to tell me?!**

_I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. And it’s seriously not a big deal, Amanda, come on. You have friends, don’t you?_

**Well, yeah, but I’m not a loser like you.**

**Come on, Todd. Take a pic. I wanna see this friend of yours.**

_No!_

Suddenly, the phone buzzed in Todd’s hand and the messaging app was replaced with a photo of Amanda flipping the camera off. Todd smiled instinctively at the photo before pressing _Accept Call._

“Todd!” Amanda’s voice hissed into the phone. “Take. A. Picture. Of. Dirk. Gently.”

“No,” Todd said, and then, “I missed you. It’s good to hear your voice, Amanda.”

“You too,” Amanda said. “Now quit trying to change the subject. It’s not like he’ll wake up or anything!”

Glancing furtively towards the figure in the living room—Dirk had crashed with his head tucked between his elbows on the table, the blanket Todd had lent him lying off to the side, forgotten—Todd covered his mouth with a hand to lower his volume. “What if he does?” 

“Well I guess you’ll have to be quiet, then.”

“I’m not taking a picture of him sleeping, Amanda. That’s creepy as fuck.”

 _“You’re_ creepy as fuck.”

“Really?”

A heavy, woe-is-me sigh filled Todd’s ear. He could imagine his sister’s face, eye-roll and all. “Just walk over to where he’s conked out and look at his face and tell me what he looks like.” Before Todd could refuse, she added, “And if he wakes up you can pretend you were giving him a blanket or something.”

Todd’s refusal faded in his mouth. “I… I don’t know, Amanda.”

“Todd,” Amanda whined. “Seriously. Please? I’m actually really glad that you made a real friend for once, and I just wanna know more about him. This is good for you, you know. I used to stay home all the time, and it was really, really bad for me, and it really helped to have a friend, and—”

“God, okay, fine,” Todd said.

Amanda whooped.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Todd muttered as he stood up. “You’d better distract me before I change my mind.”

“You got it, man. So, how did you and Dirk meet?”

“Oh, man,” Todd said, feeling a smile stretch his face. “That’s a story.”

“Tell me!”

Todd obliged, feeling a warmth light in his stomach as Amanda gasped and laughed and shouted at all the right times. By the time he reached the end of that one fateful night, he was in the living room, mere paces from the main subject of the story.

“That’s totally crazy, Todd,” Amanda said. “I can’t believe you met someone like him, much less be friends with him. You two are, like, polar opposites.”

Todd snorted. “I know, right?” 

“Tell me more about him.” Amanda’s voice was eager. “Is he funny?”

“Kind of? Yeah.” In his own way, Dirk made Todd laugh more than anyone else could. “He has a weird sense of humour, that’s for sure, but it works for him. He’s, uh. Really energetic, like bouncing off the walls energetic, and that’s before he has any coffee or sugar. Oh, and he can talk for, like, _hours_ on end without stopping, it’s honestly crazy. He likes blueberry cream-cheese pastries, the ones I make at the bakery. Too much, in my opinion. He always wears these loud, bright neon jackets. You would hate them so much, man, but he somehow pulls it off. His eyes are this really, really deep blue colour, darker than mine—”

And then Todd’s next words died and shrivelled instantly in his throat and were replaced with a low strangled gasping sound, because those deep blue eyes were open and looking straight at him.

“Todd?” Amanda’s voice sounded tinny and far-off. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Dirk’s eyes travelled to the phone Todd had in a now precariously-loose grip, and then back to him. They were sparkling.

“Are you talking about me?” His voice was scratchier than normal, but laced with endless amusement.

“Uh,” Todd said, still strangled.

Dirk raised his arms over his head and stretched languidly. “All good things, I hope,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I think I needed that. Who are you talking to?”

Todd cast his attention back to Amanda, whose voice had grown increasingly worried. “Hey, Amanda,” he said quickly into the phone. “Yeah, no, it’s okay. I’m fine. Dirk, uh. He woke up.”

The stream of curses cut off. “Oh, shit,” Amanda said. “And he heard you say all that sappy shit?”

“Wh—it wasn’t—” Todd stammered, and then long dexterous fingers stretched out and plucked the phone from his grasp. “Hey!”

Dirk held the phone up to his ear and winked at Todd. “Oh, _hi!”_ He said, voice unbelievably cheerful. “And who are you? Really? It’s absolutely lovely to meet you, Amanda, how are you on this gorgeous evening?” When Todd made a hail-mary lunge at him, he simply stood up and allowed Todd to crash face-first into the soda. “But of course! Well—believe me when I say I’d absolutely love to take a selfie for you right this instant, but Todd’s phone is just _ancient,_ honestly, two steps up from a landline, I swear—I _know, right?!_ So I really don’t know how. Oh, really? Well that’s convenient, isn’t it? Alright, then, hang on for juuust a jiffy, now—” Todd watched, horror frozen in his limbs, as Dirk squinted at the phone before tapping something. He paused for a moment, and then his face broke into a beam. “There you are!”

“Oh, my god,” Todd groaned, and thumped his head back against the couch. Seconds later, he felt the couch dip to his left as Dirk dropped himself unceremoniously down onto the cushions, half-kicking Todd in the shin.

“Todd, say hi!” Dirk said, holding the phone between both of them. Todd reluctantly lowered his head and saw Amanda looking like a cat with a canary.

“Hi,” Todd said flatly, making sure to let it show in his face how much he hated this.

“Hi,” Amanda said, smirking harder.

“Hi!” Dirk chimed in. “Isn’t it nice to meet everyone? Oohhh, we should all get together for lunch! Or on Thanksgiving break! Or for Christmas! Do you have any allergies?”

“You cook?” Amanda said.

“My god, Todd.” Dirk glared. “I cannot believe that out of everything you told her about me, you missed that. Yes, Amanda, I do cook. It was how Todd and I met, actually.”

Amanda tilted her head. “I thought you broke into Todd’s apartment.”

“What? Oh, that. Pshaw.” Dirk waved a hand. “That wasn’t breaking in, it was just… unconventionally entering without the homeowner’s awareness or consent.”

“That’s literally breaking in,” Todd said.

“No, that’s unconventionally entering without the homeowner’s awareness or consent, didn’t you hear what i just said? Keep up, Todd. And anyway, that wasn’t an official meeting, more of a run-in actually, and I’ve had much too many of those to classify one as knowing someone, much less be friends with someone. Not at all, we officially met on the dinner that I insisted upon as repayment after I accidentally came into possession of his pet cat.”

“You kitten-napped her,” Todd said.

“No, like I just said, I accidentally came into possession of her. Come on, Todd.” On the phone, Amanda cackled, sounding much too delighted for her own good, and Dirk grinned into the camera. “And it was utterly out of Jaws’ own free will.”

“Who now?” Amanda said.

“The cat,” Dirk said.

“Do I have no say in this?” Todd said.

“Come on, Todd,” Dirk coaxed. “It’s a huge shark! What’s not to love!”

“You realize the shark’s name was _Bruce,_ right? Jaws was just the movie name?”

“Eh. Semantics.” Dirk waved it off.

“Don’t be a wet blanket, Todd,” Amanda said, grinning. “Jaws is a badass name.”

Dirk brightened. “I know, right?!”

Obviously, Dirk and Amanda got along like a house on fire. They were already fitting perfectly alongside each other in seamless banter. Todd retreated to a backspace and let the two of them talk, feeling unseemingly out-of-place and pushed out of the conversation. He had the bizarre, irrational thought that he wished he didn’t introduce the two of them, and immediately extinguished that thought with a flare of shame. He barely knew Dirk, and Dirk probably had plenty of other friends, and so what if Amanda was another? And so what if Amanda was laughing more and looking happier than she had when she was speaking to Todd? He was being stupid and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the endless tirade of thoughts.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Todd looked up, startled, to find Dirk looking at him with curious eyes.

“You alright?” he asked.

“What?” Todd said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” Dirk said, and then he pursed his lips and turned back to Amanda. “Hey, Amanda. It was phenomenal to talk to you, but I should get back to work. You, on the other hand, should go to bed.”

“Aw, come on!” Amanda protested, but Dirk shrugged apologetically and she sighed. “Alright, fine. It was nice to meet you, Dirk. I’ll talk to you later maybe?”

“You bet,” Dirk said, before ending the call and handing Todd back his phone.

“So that was Amanda,” Todd said, projecting a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Anyway, sorry for interrupting your work. And waking you up, I guess. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

Dirk was unusually subdued as he nodded and watched Todd get up to retreat back to his table at the kitchen.

“Hey, Todd?” he asked.

Todd stilled. “Yeah?”

“You know how sometimes I just go off and bombard you with a whole shebang of words, and I don’t even notice I’m doing it?”

Piqued, Todd turned around to find Dirk looking back with eyes that seemed too piercing for Todd’s comfort. “Yeah?”

“I was just thinking,” Dirk said. “Sometimes I see you doing the same, except it’s all in your head.”

A slither of something ice-cold slipped down Todd’s spine. “What do you mean?” he asked.

The corner of Dirk’s mouth tugged downwards just a smidge, as if that hadn’t been the response he wanted. He paused, and then spoke deliberately, very carefully. “Todd, is there something going on in your life that you’re not telling me—or, really, _anyone_ —about?”

Todd felt the chill all the way to his bones and he forced a laugh, shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Dirk, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A flash of disappointment crossed Dirk’s face, so fast he nearly missed it, in an instant being replaced with a blank expression and a shrug. “Okay,” he said lightly. “Nevermind, then. Sleep-dep can do _incredible_ things to my perception.” When he looked at Todd again, his face was open and cheerful. “Have I told you about the time I made coffee with laundry detergent?”

“You haven’t,” Todd said, “but while I’d love to hear it, your midterm paper isn’t going to write itself.”

Dirk cast his gaze to his laptop and cursed. “Unfortunately, you are very much correct on that behalf.” He scribbled spirals on his touchpad until the open black screen was replaced with a half-filled page of a google doc. “You just go toddle off. I won’t make a ruckus. Swear on my midterm mark.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Todd said. “But let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Dirk said, already sounding disorientated as he started up his frantic typing once again.

Todd left Dirk alone, then, retreating back to his room. He aimlessly browsed social media for a while before settling on a random show on Netflix to watch, more as distraction than anything else. He tried his utmost best to ignore the buzzing alarm in his mind that there was someone else in his apartment (!), because if he started thinking about that he’d start to remember all the little discrepancies in his apartment (like that old hoodie in the corner, on the floor, no less—God, what if Dirk thought he was a slob? That pile of books on the table to the side—would he judge him for being a sci-fi and fantasy nerd?), and all of that was too much to handle tonight. It was almost too much, and he found himself wondering why he had agreed upon this—hell, he’d _suggested_ it.

The thing was—like he’d thought about many times prior—there was something about Dirk. Maybe the way he smiled with his whole face, eyes crinkling and eyebrows raised, or the way he spoke as if there was something chasing down his endless stream of words—maybe the way he seemed so unabashedly, flamboyantly, utterly _out there,_ blazingly confident whilst simultaneously being an eccentric mess of flailing limbs and flying words—it made the piercing voice in Todd’s head that whispered all the tiny things that could go wrong, if only for a moment, go blessedly silent. Dirk took up so much space and volume wherever he went that it was the best kind of distraction.

Todd was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten until he casually glanced at the time and jerked with surprise. It was nearly midnight, and Dirk was… still out there? Had he left without saying goodbye? For some reason, the thought made Todd feel a little sad.

But as he meandered back to the living room, he saw that Dirk was still there. He also saw that his laptop screen had turned dark, and he had conked out on the sofa, sprawled out and softly snoring. Todd smiled automatically at the sight, and reached out to shake him awake, before his hand halted halfway there.

He chewed on his lip in thought for a moment before making his decision and swiftly retreating his hand. He left the room, and returned holding a soft blue tartan blanket he retrieved from the closet, the one he kept for the particularly-cold winter nights. Slowly and carefully, he draped it over the sleeping figure.

Despite how quiet Todd was trying to be, Dirk stirred at the contact, murmuring something before blinking his eyes open. “Todd?”

Todd smiled. “Hi.”

“I fell asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm,” Dirk mumbled. “I can go back.”

“It’s okay,” Todd said. “You can sleep here.”

Dirk smiled sleepily. “You trust me now?” His voice was low and lazy.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Dirk snuffled out a laugh before burrowing his nose into the blankets. “Smells nice,” he murmured.

“Alright, Dirk,” Todd said, amused and affectionate. 

“My paper,” Dirk said, suddenly, as if just remembering. Although his eyes were already fluttering, fighting slumber.

“You said it was due in a few days,” Todd said, “not today. You need rest more.”

“Okay,” Dirk said agreeably. He fell silent for a moment, and Todd was just about to retreat when he spoke again. “I’ve actually got an 8am class tomorrow, so I’ll be out of your hair by then.”

“I have work at seven,” Todd said, “so I’ll be gone before you.”

Dirk hummed. “Okay. Don’t worry, you can lock the door. I’ll just go out through the balcony again. And I won’t touch anything else. I swear. Except for this couch. And the blanket. And the ground. And the window. And—”

“Goodnight, Dirk,” Todd said.

Dirk paused. “Goodnight, Todd,” he said, and it sounded like he was smiling. 

Todd allowed himself his own small smile, before making his way back to his bed. His energy drained away quickly, leaving him exhausted enough that he fell asleep within minutes to fleeting glimpses of canary yellow and navy blue.

-+-+-+-

**Todd Brotzman. I’m disappointed in you.**

_I told you, I’ll edit your essay tomorrow. Promise._

**Not that!! Dirk!!**

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Dirk earlier. I really didn’t know how to bring it up._

**UGH. Not that either!**

_I’m sorry I hacked into your Instagram. Your password was just way too easy to crack._

**Wait, what?**

**WHAT**

_I’m kidding. I have no clue what you’re talking about._

**Jesus, way to give a girl a heart attack.** **My instagram is sacred, Todd.**

_Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Now why are you disappointed in me?_

**Dirk!!**

_Dirk what?_

**You didn’t tell me he was hot!**

_What?_

_Oh, come on, Amanda._

**Are you blind or just stupid?**

**He is a NINE, Todd.**

**I’m so proud of you.**

_Stop objectifying him. Yes, Dirk’s a great guy and I’m glad he’s my friend._

**Damn right you should be. Is he single?**

_Amanda, no._

**Jeez. Party pooper.**

**Fine. He’s gay anyway.**

_What? No, he’s not._

**Trust me, Todd. He definitely is.**

_He definitely is not. He’s just… flamboyant._

**Yeah, flamboyantly gay.**

_Dirk Gently is not gay._

**Bet you ten bucks he is.**

_You’re on._

It was still dark out when Todd woke up, which he was used to. There was also a man whom he’d known for only a few days sleeping on his couch and drooling all over the cushions, which he abso-fucking-lutely wasn’t used to.

He went through his morning routine trying his best to ignore the startling presence of another person in his space, opting for making two cups of coffee instead of one—he briefly considered breakfast, but he never ate breakfast himself and he wasn’t sure what Dirk liked. Once his own coffee was finished, he picked up the remaining one and thought for a moment before stirring in sugar and milk (Dirk seemed like a double-double person—hell, Dirk seemed like a _hot chocolate_ person). Holding it in both hands and feeling the warmth seep into his palms, he carefully carried it over to the living room where his guest was situated.

Dirk was sprawled along the couch like a spastic starfish, with one leg hiked halfway up the couch and an arm dangling over the edge. It looked horrifically uncomfortable, and yet he appeared to be fast asleep. The blanket was inexplicably five feet away from the couch, as if in the middle of the night he had lashed out and flung it halfway across the room, which considering what Todd had learned about Dirk Gently in the short span of time he’d gotten to know him for, really wasn’t that much of a stretch in judgement.

Still, he walked over and picked it up, draping it back over the sleeping figure. It was November, and Todd still hadn’t turned on the heating yet. It was just basic moral consideration that made him do it. It was also basic moral consideration that made him lean down, just a little, and gently brush back some of the man’s hair from his forehead. 

Uh-huh.

Todd straightened with a buzz of self-scolding in his head. _Not_ the right time. Not the right _person._ (Him, not Dirk.) He shook his head to clear it before picking up his coat, haphazardly draped over a chair, and headed off to work, locking the door behind him.

-+-+-+-

It was a slow, exponential growth in numbers—midterm season was upon the frazzled, overly-caffeinated students of the university. Every morning, the pot of coffee Todd brewed in the bakery grew to two pots, then three. He wondered why they didn’t just go to the library, until Farah informed him solemnly that the library was just as crowded—even more so—along with the coffee shop across from it.

Todd found himself needing to give Dirk a tap on the shoulder and a gentle nudge to go home more and more often. If it was a weekday, Dirk would head to the library. But on the weekends, when it closed earlier than the bakery, Todd found himself offering up his apartment more and more often. After that one night he’d spent sleeping over, it had become a usual routine, and Todd stopped stowing away the blanket each morning after, more often than not needing it dug up once more in just a few days.

It scared him a little if he thought about it too much—how fast things seemed to be moving—so he usually tried not to think about it. It helped that Dirk usually talked so much on their walks home that it effectively prevented Todd’s thoughts from going anywhere too far. But at night, when he was alone under the covers with nothing but his thoughts and the suddenly unavoidable awareness that Dirk Gently was in his apartment, in the living, mere paces away, Todd couldn’t help but get that feeling creeping upon him again—like he was on the edge of a cliff, walking a thread-thin tightrope. Except this time, he felt like he was had already slipped off.

What scared him the most, apart from everything, was how much he seemed to _like_ it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for description of an anxiety attack near the beginning of the kitchen/bakery scene! Be cautious <3

“There’s a Halloween party next weekend,” Dirk brought up, out of the blue, one afternoon at the bakery.

“Oh,” Todd had said, and handed Dirk a cupcake. “That’s nice. Are you going?”

“Of course!” Dirk said.

“Cool,” Todd said. “Have fun.”

Dirk didn’t leave the line. Instead, he looked at Todd with squinty eyes and an unreadable look.

Todd raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“There’s a party next weekend,” Dirk said, extra slowly, “And I’m allowed to bring a plus one.”

Todd blinked at him for a while before it hit him. “Really?” he said. “Me?”

Dirk rolled his eyes. “Yes, you. Don’t sound  _ too _ flattered.”

They were keeping up the line. Todd said, “I don’t like parties,” and then, “Next!”

Dirk pouted at Todd and, as he was leaving, shouted, “This conversation isn’t over!”

And, in typical Dirk-fashion, it wasn’t. Dirk kept bugging him about it, after work and during dinner at Dirk’s and movie nights at Todd’s, with patented puppy eyes and pleading.

Todd’s denial was always backed up by one reason: he didn’t go out. At all. Go out, in this case, meaning ‘leave his apartment for a purpose aside from work and food’. Apparently that was hermit behaviour. Now, mind you: Todd knew that. He was surprised at the fact that Dirk was shocked he exhibited this hermit behaviour. 

“How do you not go insane?” he had asked upon the realization.

“You just get used to it,” Todd had answered, because, really, he was perfectly self-sufficient. He got up, went to work, went home, did grocery trips on the weekends. It was—fine. Boring? Occasionally. He’d take that over painstakingly nursing a beer, alone, at a crowded, noisy, sticky bar any day. Or a party.

But Dirk had weedled and argued and pointed out that, if Todd went with Dirk, he’d be at a party  _ with someone else.  _ Or painstakingly nursing a beer at a crowded, noisy, sticky bar  _ with someone else.  _ Which apparently made up for the rest of it. Todd wasn’t sure if he agreed, but Dirk had then spun out into one of those moods that Todd knew him long enough to just lay his cards down and agree to whatever it was before he was buried neck-deep in words. He  _ would  _ make a good lawyer. 

“Come out to the bar with me,” Dirk coaxed. “It would be like—like a stepping stone! If you really, really,  _ really  _ hate it, I won’t bug you about the party anymore.”

Which was how Todd ended up at a crowded, noisy, sticky bar on a Friday night, when usually he’d be at home, probably eating a microwaved dinner and watching a random Netflix documentary on his laptop with Jaws curled up in his lap. He was very certain which scenario he preferred more.

“Stop thinking,” Dirk said. He was sitting next to him, dressed in a sleek black jacket with brightly-coloured rainbow racing stripes running down each arm. Todd had fully planned on showing up in a button-up and slacks, but Dirk had taken one look at him and pulled him into his apartment, where he thrust a pile of clothes into Todd’s arm and shoved him into the washroom to change. That was the reason why he was in a ripped black ‘cool-guy’ jacket with sewn-on patches and a matching dark pair of skinny jeans that made him feel, frankly, exposed. Dirk had grinned and given him two thumbs-ups, though, and Todd didn’t particularly care about his reputation in a bar like this, anyway, so he shrugged and kept it on.

Todd startled when Dirk’s hand landed on his shoulder in a sharp slap. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You’re thinking too much,” Dirk said. “You’ve got your  _ thinking  _ face on.”

Todd frowned. “I don’t have a thinking face.” Did he have a thinking face?

Dirk snapped his fingers at him. “There it is again! Your eyebrows scrunch up and you get a little crease on the bridge of your nose right  _ here—”  _ He poked at the space between Todd’s eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Todd said, batting the hand away. “Well, I can’t just not think. You try not thinking about anything.”

“I’m different,” Dirk said breezily. “Also, I’m thinking about fun stuff. Cool stuff. You’re probably thinking about how to come up with the best excuse to leave so that you can finish watching that killer whale documentary on Netflix.”

Todd scoffed. “Killer whales are fun. And cool.”

“More fun and cool than this awesome bar?”

“Killer whales are the largest species of the dolphin. They can be as long as a school bus. This bar has one-dollar beer that tastes like someone pissed in it, and if someone actually did, it would be an improvement.”

“That’s what you get for getting the one-dollar beer,” Dirk said, and tipped his own glass—some sort of cocktail with a mini umbrella. He raised his eyebrows. “It was one dollar, Todd, what were you expecting?”

Todd grinned, and raised his own (sticky) glass to clink it against Dirk’s. “Touche. To shitty, one-dollar beer.”

“Amen.” Dirk downed the rest of his drink. “Hey, did I tell you about that one time I tried to make my own beer out of apples and those end slices of bread that no one likes?”

“That sounds horrific,” Todd said.

Dirk shrugged, but didn’t deny it. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said, which should honestly be the name of his autobiography.

They fell into a familiar back and forth, with Dirk guiding the conversation with his easygoing manner and unlimited anecdotes, Todd chiming in whenever he felt comfortable, relaxing with the knowledge that Dirk could effortless fill any silence that Todd inevitably fell into at one point in his sentences, picking up the slack with ease.

A few beers in, Todd was feeling, shockingly, rather relaxed. He threw his head back and clutched his stomach with uncontrollable laughter at a joke Dirk made about his professor. 

Dirk seemed pleased with himself. He reached out and patted Todd’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back—restroom. You better not ditch me.”

Todd supposed it was a rational threat. He held up a mock salute. “Scout’s honour.”

Dirk returned it. “When I come back, remind me to tell you about that one time I set a counselor's hair on fire at Scout camp.”

“You didn’t!” Todd said. Dirk winked at him before bounding away.

Todd sighed and shook his head, hiding his smile in a sip of beer. He entertained himself with watching the TV—some football game between two teams that he didn't know—when he felt a new presence. Call it paranoia, call it a sixth sense, but he could tell they were coming towards him from metres away.

He looked over and made eye contact with a short, blond-haired boy who looked around his age. He had bright green eyes, and smiled when he caught his eye.

“Hey there,” he said once he'd sidled close enough to speak without needing to shout. “Having a good time?”

“Pretty good,” Todd managed to say without stuttering.

“Great,” the man said. “My name's Tom. What's yours?”

“Todd,” Todd said.

“Lovely to meet you, Todd,” Tom said. “Now, I can’t help but be towards here, but you have just the  _ bluest  _ eyes.”

Todd’s eyes darted towards the washroom door, desperately wishing for Dirk’s return. He didn’t know what to say, feeling trapped under Tom's piercing green eyes. “Thanks,” he finally mumbled. “You too. I mean, they’re green, but, y’know.”

Tom’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “You’re adorable,” he said. "And who are you batting for?"

“I'm sorry?”

“You know,” Tom said, raising an eyebrow. “What's your team?”

“What?” Todd said, and scrambled furiously for a reply. “Um, what sport?”

To his surprise, Tom let out a laugh, reaching out and touching Todd's arm to steady himself, coming another step closer. “I suppose it can be classified as a sport,” he said, and those eyes were back on his, twinkling a little now.

Todd’s mind whirred like the shitty Windows program that it reverted to sometimes. “Oh!” he said. “Oh. I’m, um. I’m bi?”

“What a coincidence,” Tom said, leaning in close enough that Todd could smell his cologne—something spicy and sharp that stung his nose and made him fight the urge to sneeze. “So am I.”

“Really?” Todd said, feeling the urge to jump up and sprint out the door overpowering. “That's cool, I guess.” He winced, and winced some more when Tom stopped inches from his face and stopped talking, seemingly content to just stay there and smile at him. Where was one of those spontaneous bar-fights when he needed one?

“Again, being towards,” Tom said, finally, after an eternity of awkwardness, “but are you going to make me say it, or is this your polite way of telling me you're not interested?”

Todd said, “Um.”

“You know,” Tom said, “I wish your name was Avogadro, because then I’d already know your number.”

Todd squeaked, words failing in his throat, and the gods must have heard his prayer.

“Hey Todd!” Dirk said, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing Todd’s arm. “I need to talk to you about something very quickly in private conversation without this nice handsome stranger,” he said in a single breath, and sent one of his disarming grins at Tom, who looked a little overwhelmed all of a sudden. “Just a moment, please, make yourself comfortable, we’ll just be a jiffy.”

Holding on to Todd’s arm, Dirk marched them into the corner before twirling around and crossing his arms.

“Please tell me the classes I took on body language psychology were correct and you were in fact desperately wishing for a way to escape that conversation and I didn’t just ruin your chance to get laid,” he said.

Todd felt eons of tension seep away from his shoulders. “No,” he replied. “I mean, yes. I mean, thank you.”

“No problem,” Dirk said, appearing relieved, too, for some reason. He smiled. “Wanna get out of here?”

Todd’s eyes darted over to Tom, who had ordered another drink and was inconspicuously darting glances over at the two of them once in a while. He looked nervous.

“I feel bad,” Todd admitted. “I don’t want to just leave him hanging there.”

“Well, easy fix!” Dirk said. “Go over there and tell him you’re not interested.”

“But then I still feel bad,” Todd muttered. 

Dirk pursed his lips, and then nodded. “I’ve got just the solution,” he chirped, and patted Todd’s shoulder before grabbing it and starting to head back towards Tom. “Just play along!”

“Wait, Dirk—” Todd said, and then he needed to walk to keep himself from falling over, all the way to where Tom was sitting.

“Hi, Tom,” Dirk said.

“Hey,” Tom chimed in, his eyes running up and down Dirk. “Are you Todd’s friend?”

Todd felt one of Dirk’s arms snake around his waist and pull him in so that he was standing flush against his side. “Well,” Dirk said. “Todd’s  _ boyfriend _ , actually.”

Todd opened his mouth, but Dirk barrelled on. “You see, Todd here is just  _ too  _ sweet. And rather oblivious as well. He didn’t realize you were hitting on him, and afterwards, he didn’t know how to tell you. Actually, I’m pretty sure he was just waiting for me to arrive so that I would be the one to inevitably break the news to you.” He sighed and pinched Todd’s side with the hand around his waist, making Todd squeak. “I know, right? I’m so sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“Tom,” Tom said, looking a little stunned.

“Hi, Tom!” Dirk said. “It was absolutely  _ scintillating  _ to meet you, but, like I said—Todd here is taken.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Todd’s cheek before giving Tom a wan smile. “Sorry again.”

“Damn,” Tom said. “That’s… That’s alright. No hard feelings, man. Sorry for, y’know. Hitting on your guy.”

“That’s alright,” Dirk said warmly. “I would’ve done the same.” He winked.

Tom laughed, a little embarrassed. “I guess I’ll leave the two of you alone, then,” he said. “Hey, Todd—sorry about that, man. You should’ve said something. It’s cool, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Todd said faintly. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Tom waved it off, and then began to back off. “I have to admit, when I saw the two of you together I had my suspicions, but I decided to take a chance anyway. You two make a cute couple. Have a good night.” He sent one more parting wave at the two of them before turning around and striding away.

There was a pause, and then Dirk turned to Todd with a grin. “See? Now he won’t think he’s been turned down because you weren’t interested, but because you were already taken! No hard feelings, no harm done.”

Todd was stuck on what Tom had said right before he left. What did he mean, he had his suspicions?

Dirk’s arm was still wrapped around Todd’s waist, and Todd realized with a jolt that felt like a bolt of lightning straight from the sky that he didn’t want him to let go. The spot where Dirk had kissed his cheek felt like it was on fire, tingling and sparking with warmth.

_ Oh,  _ he thought. And then,  _ Fuck. _

Dirk noticed the shock that had settled onto Todd’s face. “Todd? You okay? Was that…” His voice took on hesitancy. “That was okay, right?” He immediately let go of Todd’s waist, a sensation Todd instantly missed. “Please say you’re not homophobic.”

“What? No!” Todd said loudly.

“Oh thank god,” Dirk said.

“I think it would be pretty hypocritical if I were,” Todd said. “I’m bi.”

“Oh thank  _ god,”  _ Dirk said. “I mean, um. I’m pansexual. I thought that was rather obvious, with the jackets and all, but just in case you were wondering—batting for not one, not two, but any and all teams over here, from fantasy football to DnD—and yes, innuendo intended. But anyway, yay for not being homophobic!” He grabbed the half-drained beer Tom had left on the counter and raised it.

Todd looked at Dirk and wondered how absolutely blind he could’ve been not to have noticed it sooner, that surge of fondness that rose up in his chest, that fuzzy little ball of warmth that tickled his throat and tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He raised his own glass in reciprocation, feeling like the world had just tipped itself on its axis and re-righted itself in an alignment in which he was wholly wobbly on his feet, bound to trip at any moment.

And, as if an epiphany like that wasn’t enough, they had left the bar pleasantly tipsy and giggling like two lunatics, and Dirk cooed at a passing goose only to be attacked by it and ran away screaming, and Todd had had so much fun that, in his hazy state of mind, he agreed to going to the Halloween party. And the next day, Dirk somehow remembered it through his hangover, so he couldn’t back out now. Todd wondered if this had been Dirk’s plan all long.

Email from Todd Brotzman to Amanda Brotzman:

INTERAC transfer: 9.00

_ One dollar off because he’s pan, not gay. _

**Close enough. I told you so!**

_ Yeah, good for you, you were right, etc. etc. _

**So are you gonna ask him out?**

_ What? No! _

**Why not?**

_ Just because he's gay doesn't mean he's interested in me. _

**So it isn't because you aren't interested in him!**

_How do you know I’m interested in him?_ _  
_ **So you ARE interested in him! I knew it!**

_ I can’t believe you figured it out before I did. What the hell? _

**I can’t believe you figured it out at all. I swear, you were SO oblivious in high school. Remember Samantha?**

_ She was just a friend! _

**Todd. She invited you over to watch friends-to-lovers rom-coms every Sunday.**

_ Oh. _

**Yeah, oh. But not to fear, young padawan. I’m not letting you make the same mistakes with Dirk. Ask him out!**

_ No. _

**Seriously, Todd! You need to get your head out of your ass and start seeing some sun for once.**

_ That metaphor doesn't make sense.  _

**Bet you twenty he likes you.**

-+-+-+-

“Hey, Todd!” Farah poked her head into the kitchen. “I gotta take a call. It’s important. I’ll be half an hour, forty minutes max—can you cover me for a bit? Please?”

From where he was idly organizing the mixing bowls waiting for his muffins to cool down, Todd felt unease rise up inside him.

It had been mentioned earlier that Todd preferred to work in the back. This was no mistake: the first week he had on the job, Max had made him rotate, and it had been a nightmare. Working front-desk, face-to-face with all the cranky college students, often inebriated, stressed, or generally dickwads was not Todd’s preferred poison. It made the dark, swirling part of his mind rise to high tide and threaten to take over. Thankfully, Farah Black was a godsend: her warm smiles accompanied with the hidden edge of a no-nonsense attitude led to the customers either crushing on her or intimidated by her, but mostly, they stayed docile. It worked out as a perfect balance, with Todd happy to do the washing-up and baking and restocking along with a few other employees in the back, while another half stuck to the front lines.

But he took another look at Farah’s pleading face, and said, “Yeah, okay.”

Farah broke into a relieved smile as she darted over to hug him quickly. “Thanks so much,” she said. “I owe you one.”

Todd quickly checked around the kitchen, turning off ovens and stovetops and ensuring all was finished, and then he took a deep breath and made his way to the front.

He felt his throat clamp up when he saw the lineup, the chatter, the crowd, and he clenched his fist under the counter and offered the customer at the front of the line a polite, tight smile.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “How may I help you today?”

However anxious he was to do this, it wasn’t as if he’d never manned the front desk before, and he found that if he allowed himself to settle down and fall into a routine, the short exchanges became bearable. He encountered the few snappy, irritable ones, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, and Todd was silently grateful for the students that simply went up to him and said, “Coffee. Black” or “Croissant” and nothing else, silently holding out a card or coins or bills. 

He was just beginning to feel the tension in his spine begin to dwindle away when he heard the scream.

Someone was standing off to the side, her face red and eyes huge with panic. In her hands, a half-eaten muffin dropped to the floor as her grip went slack.

There was a girl next to him, and she shrieked again. “Help! Someone help!”

In a flash, the bakery erupted into chaos. Customers swarmed around the girl, barricading her from sight, volume rising from four to ten as questions and shouts were thrown here and there.

Todd watched, frozen, his muscles turned to steel. He couldn’t move.

“You!” A man, face tight with anger, pointed a trembling finger at him. “Don’t you know anything about allergies?”

Todd opened and closed his mouth and said, “I—I—”

_ “Why didn’t you tell her?” _ The man seethed. “You know, we can sue for this! She could  _ die!” _

“I—” Todd said, and then his throat closed up and he felt his vision blur wickedly as tears stung his eyes. His stomach churned and he could hear the distant cries for an epipen, a police, growing quieter and fainter beneath the roar in his eardrums, the only thing zipping through his mind  _ Not now not now not now, not again. _

His head pounded like someone had taken a swing at him. He wished someone would. In a blinding flash of shame, Todd closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, trying to close out his surroundings.

He heard sirens, murky and blurred, like he was underwater. He didn’t know how much time had passed, caught up in a whirlwind of panic, shame, guilt. He felt someone clasp him on the shoulder and he flinched violently away. The hand drew back quickly, but returned differently, gently brushing his arm with a tenderness that seeped through Todd’s awareness and gradually into recognition.

“Todd? Can you hear me?” 

And it was Dirk. Of course it was Dirk. Todd let out a noise alarmingly similar to a sob and tried to curl in closer to himself. He felt those hands, still infinitely gentle, taking him by the arm.

“Todd, I’m going to lead you into the kitchen and through the back, where it’s quieter. Don’t worry about the girl, she’s okay, we called the police and administered an epipen, she’s going to be okay and so are you, okay, Todd? Does that sound good?”

Following the light tug on his arm, Todd could only stumble blindly. Dirk kept up the string of words, soft and firm and reassuring, all the way until Todd felt the back of his eyelids light up with natural bright light and he was hit with a strong gust of brisk October air. He felt his back come into contact with a wall, rough and gritty, and he slid down all the way until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, chest still heaving, desperate for air he couldn’t receive.

Those hands on him again, flitting about as if they weren’t sure where to land. Fluttering on his shoulders before drawing a warm line down his arm, a feather-soft brush against his hair. 

“Todd,” Dirk said. “Can you open your eyes for me, please?”

Todd drew in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Dirk was startlingly close, face mere inches from his own, his eyes growing warm as they met his own.

“Good,” Dirk soothed. His hands found their destination back on his shoulders, a bit firmer now. “Keep your eyes on me, now. Follow my breathing, hey, c’mon darling. Just breathe. In and out, just like that.”

Todd did his best to follow, still gasping a little but coming down, now. He felt Dirk’s hands squeeze his shoulders, then relax, then build again—inhale, exhale. 

Dirk made encouraging noises and kept up the barrage of nonsensical comforts. “Good, just like that, you’re okay. See? You’re okay.” Variations of this litany was repeated until, finally, Todd let out a final pitiful whimper and sighed, coming back afloat to reality.

Dirk must have seen it in Todd’s eyes, because he broke into a smile. “There we are.”

“Dirk,” Todd whispered, feeling like his throat was filled with sand.

“Hey, Todd,” Dirk whispered back.

Humiliated tears clogged his vision, and he felt the sour-sharp sting in his sinus that meant he was about to cry. 

“It’s okay,” Dirk promised quickly. “You’re fine.” A gentle hand brushed along his cheeks, wiping away the dampness.

Todd felt his heart rate slow to a brisk pace—not ideal, but eons better than the galloping it had been at mere minutes ago. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I couldn’t even help her,” Todd muttered. “I just—I just—”

“Hey-hey-hey.” Dirk shushed him. “You don’t need that. It wasn’t your fault. We have labels and warning for allergens all over the place, she just wasn’t careful, that’s all.”

“Still my fault,” Todd insisted. “I could’ve—could’ve told her.”

“Todd.” Dirk’s voice was, incredibly, a little amused. “Are you really going to list out every single possible allergen we have, to every single customer? It wasn’t your fault.”

Todd shook his head, his eyes falling down to focus on the grey concrete below them. “I could’ve helped, then. I didn’t, I couldn’t, I—stood there like a useless fucking _ —” _

Dirk’s eyes went hard. “Stop,” he said, steel in his voice. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“S’the truth,” Todd said. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. All self-pitying bullshit.”

_ “Todd.” _ Dirk’s tone made Todd startle, and he looked up to do a double-take at his expression—it was almost harsh. He flinched, and saw Dirk’s face immediately fill with apology.

“I’m sorry,” Dirk said quickly, and then dropped down to face Todd directly. His hands came up, swiftly cupping Todd’s face in a gesture so achingly intimate it made Todd’s breathing catch in his throat. “I need you to listen to me, not just hear me, but listen. Can you do that for me, Todd? Listen?”

“Yeah,” Todd managed. 

Dirk nodded, his hands softening on his face until they were mere flutters along his cheeks, brushing back his hair in an almost-absent gesture. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “Not your fault she had an allergic reaction, and not your fault you couldn’t help her. Like I said, we have every precaution written down and noted in the store. She had her epipen with her, someone administered it to her, and she was taken away by an ambulance. She is okay. And as for you—there is nothing you could’ve done, not in that state. You could barely breathe, Todd.”

“And that’s not my fault?” He thought he had gotten this under control. It had been happening less and less, the more he stayed away, the more he shuttered himself and kept his interactions to a minimum. He hadn’t this happen in weeks—months. And he hadn’t been  _ caught,  _ seen like this, by someone in longer. Evidently, it hadn’t been getting better. He had just been avoiding it. It wasn’t ever going to go away. He felt his chest give another aching twist.

“It’s absolutely not your fault.” Dirk’s voice was so filled with conviction, and Todd wondered how he held so much faith in him when he obviously was falling apart. “You can’t control when these things happen, Todd. You couldn’t help it.”

“That just makes it worse,” Todd said. “I’m so—it’s like I’m  _ volatile _ all the time, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Dirk seemed to hesitate for a moment before proceeding. “Do you have medication?”

“I don’t want it,” Todd said immediately.

“Why not?”

“It’s like… it’s like it makes it  _ real,  _ you know? I don’t. I don’t want people to think of me like that. Like I need to take pills just to, to  _ live,  _ to function normally.”

Dirk’s expression changed, a fleeting glimpse of something Todd couldn’t quite make out. He leaned back, taking his hands off Todd, and Todd had a flash of panic that he’d said something horribly wrong and he was going to leave, before he realized that Dirk was digging through the pocket of his jacket, looking for something. He found it after only a few seconds, and when he retrieved his hand from his pocket he was gripping something in his fingers. It was a small orange cylinder with a white cap. Dirk held it out for Todd, who took it with suddenly-trembling fingers. He read the label, then looked at Dirk with wide eyes, silently shocked.

“It’s Adderall,” Dirk said. “For my ADHD.”

Todd curled his fingers around the bottle and felt the lingering heat from Dirk’s hand leech into his skin. “You have ADHD?” he said.

“Yeah,” Dirk said, and raised his chin, eyes glinting in a challenge. “Why? Are you freaked out?”

Todd was shocked. “What? No! I—Dirk, oh my god,  _ no.” _

The glint dwindled into a sparkle, and the corner of Dirk’s mouth tilted up. “So then, what makes  _ you _ so special?”

“I…” Todd didn’t know what to say. “Dirk, you didn’t have to tell me.”

In response, Dirk shrugged. “I wanted to,” he said candidly. “Besides, I needed to one-up you, didn’t I?” He grinned, but it looked softer than usual, something more open and vulnerable shivering just underneath.

As Todd's mind swirled with this new information, it made contact with a past memory and something clicked into place. “That first night you came over…”

“I forgot to take my medication,” Dirk finished the sentence for him. “That’s why I was, um. Bouncing off the walls.” He grinned wryly. “More than usual, anyway. I took it when I went to the washroom at your place.” The grin softened to something more serious. “It’s okay, Todd. You’re the only one making it not okay, by  _ believing  _ it.” He squeezed Todd’s shoulder, a comforting weight. “Todd, I meant what I said about wanting to get to know you better. When I said that, I meant I wanted everything. The good and the bad and everything in between.”

Todd felt a sweet, honeyed warmth bloom in his stomach. He let his hand fall to the floor, struggling to push himself up into a standing position.

Dirk immediately came to aid, steadying him and helping him up. “Todd? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“I’m fine,” Todd said. “Come here.”

Dirk’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I am here. I don’t understand—” His words trailed off as Todd put his arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

For a moment, Dirk was tense. As Todd doggedly held on, though, he slowly relaxed, and his arms came up to wrap around Todd, reciprocating with a gentle tentativeness.

“Thank you,” Todd said.

Dirk's response was in a careful murmur. “Of course. Anything.”

“I’ll look around,” Todd said. “Do some research. Maybe find a therapist.”

“Okay,” Dirk said, and he felt him smile against his shoulder.

-+-+-+-

It was as if they’d passed a milestone. There was always this hidden barrier between the two of them, although they hadn’t even seemed to notice it—after that day, it dissolved. 

Dirk started coming over to Todd’s apartment on the regular. He still came in through the balcony, even though Todd had insisted up and down for him to just knock on the front door like a normal person, goddamnit, the only exception being on rainy or windy days—and that was only if it was really bad. After all, his very first entrance had been with a drizzling flurry of rain.

The response to that would always be a flashier entrance. One time, Dirk had climbed the fire escape instead. He came in through the window another—Todd still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do that, and Dirk wouldn’t spill. Another time, his innate curiosity winning over, he followed Dirk outside to his balcony and watched with his heart in his throat as he casually climbed on top of the railing, bent his knees, and leaped off Todd’s deck and across the air until he hooked his arms onto the railing of his own balcony and shimmied up and away.

It was revealed that Dirk had gotten really, really into parkour when he was in high school. “I had a lot of pent-up energy,” was his explanation. “And climbing things were fun. You know how kids climb trees for fun? I just never grew out of it.” 

And then Dirk had driven Todd out to a rock-climbing place over the weekend after one of his exams to blow off steam. Todd was still convinced it was just a way for Dirk to blatantly outdo Todd, who had clung onto his handholds two metres from the floor, hands sweating and swearing profusely, while Dirk effortlessly scaled up that wall, and then another, and then  _ climbed on the ceiling  _ for a few paces before rappelling down with a wide, happy grin.

And then Todd had gotten a panic attack two metres up from the floor, desperately holding on for dear life, which is, by far, the worst place he’d ever had a panic attack before, and Dirk felt so guilty he cried in the car for five minutes after calming Todd down, effectively swapping their roles right after.

It kickstarted a long, rambling discussion that started during their drive back, and wound up back at Dirk’s apartment where he steadfastly cooked Todd a three-course meal in apology, without a single break in the conversation whilst doing so. Both of them realized this was an issue that needed to be addressed and researched from both sides, and what better way to collect information than firsthand?

Dirk told Todd about how his love of climbing extended into general hyperactivity, turning into one of the first signs that made him start to realize he was slightly different from his other peers, and how he began to notice all the other little things: how no one else had so much trouble sitting in their chair, or watching a two-hour movie in class whilst paying attention all the way, or the way he constantly forgot his lunch bag at home even though he needed it every single day. Todd told Dirk about the way he lay in bed some nights, unable to fall asleep from all the thoughts swarming through his head, jittery and invading his every corner. The reason that, apart from Amanda, he only had three people he saw regularly: Farah, Max, and now Dirk. 

That night, over grilled chicken pasta with pesto sauce, Todd told Dirk about Amanda.

“Amanda has anxiety, too,” he said.

(He knew she was alright with others knowing. Hell, she had a freaking  _ Instagram  _ in support of other people with anxiety, beating down stereotypes and offering advice. Just to be sure, he’d texted her asking about him telling Dirk—the response had been positive, and with a shameless social media plug.)

“She was diagnosed with it when she was twelve,” Todd said. “I was sixteen. And an asshole.”

Hearing the change in tone, Dirk put down his cutlery and watched Todd with his full attention.

“I didn’t take it seriously.” Todd felt something in himself shrivel up, but he forged on, feeling every ounce of the shame swamp deep in his bones. He took it with open arms, the reminder welcome and needed, well-deserved. “I would make fun of her. Mock her. When she had a panic attack, I—I thought it was funny.” He coughed, his throat suddenly thick, and blinked harshly at the table, refusing to meet Dirk’s eyes in fear of what he would see. “I had my first panic attack after I moved out, went to college. I, uh, got diagnosed. After that, things just spiralled, and I dropped out. I jumped around between jobs for a bit before the one at the bakery. Amanda doesn’t know that I have it. And I don’t want her to know. So, if you two ever talk, don’t mention anything about it. Please.”

His fingers were trembling from where they were placed on the table. As Todd fell silent, Dirk reached out and placed his own hand over Todd’s left, a warm steady weight blanketing his hand.

“Todd,” Dirk said. His tone was curious, but not demanding. “Why don’t you tell her?”

“God,” Todd said, and imagined doing it. “I was such an asshole. I think it’s proper retribution, don’t you? It’s more than what I deserve. Not enough. But it just seems cheap if I tell her—like I’m trying to justify my apologies because of it.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Todd said. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t understand,” Dirk said. “You two seem close. I’ve spoken to her. She doesn’t seem angry at you.”

“She isn’t,” Todd said. “Well, maybe she is. It was a long time ago, and I’ve apologized hundreds of times since. She just accepted it, just like that. She told me once that it happened to her a lot—the way I treated her. Like that makes it any better.”

“I still think you should tell her,” Dirk said. “Like you said, she has already forgiven, in the very least accepted, your behaviour in the past. Don’t you think that she deserves to know?”

Todd pushed around the final few bites of food on his plate, appetite suddenly lost. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’m just a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Todd.”

Todd shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, then. I just can’t do it. Not yet. Maybe later. But until then—can you keep it a secret, Dirk? Please?”

“Of course,” Dirk said. “I won’t tell her. I still think she should know, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her. It’s all up to you.”

Relief swamped through him at the sincerity in Dirk’s voice. “Thanks,” Todd breathed. “Thanks, Dirk.”

Dirk smiled, and squeezed Todd’s hand.

_ I love you. _

**I love you too, dork. What brought this on?**

_ Just wanted to make sure you knew. _

**You’re feeling guilty again, aren’t you?**

**I told you, you’ve apologized enough.**

_ Not enough for what I did. _

**Maybe not. Nothing will ever change what you did to me, or the way you treated me.**

**But I know you’ve changed. Instead of apologizing, maybe you should just focus on who you are now: someone better. Someone who doesn’t let their past define them.**

_ What is this, a Lifetime movie? _

**Not enough sunsets.**

**Now stop wallowing. Seriously, it’s not a good look.**

_ Thanks, Amanda. Good night. _

**Night.**

-+-+-+-

Dirk had offered Todd an opportunity to back out of the party after the incident at the bakery, but Todd had turned it down. He was a man of his word. But no matter how adamant he was to make this work, a bar was one thing—a full-blown college party was leaping three, four tiers above that without any prior preparation. Months ago, if someone told him they’d give him a million dollars to step foot in a party like this, Todd would have slammed the door in their face. And now here he was.

He was overly conscious of every move he made, every tentative step, every brush of physical contact he made with the dozens of strangers in the room, all unrecognizable and decked out in makeup and costumes. A  _ Halloween  _ party, no less—no doubt one of the worst parties he could’ve gone to.

“Is the music supposed to be this loud?” he hissed into Dirk’s ear. 

Dirk turned his head and gave him a smile that probably was supposed to be comforting, but the fangs kind of killed the vibe. (Todd still didn’t know why a detective costume required  _ fangs.  _ He suspected Dirk just thought they looked cool and bought them for fun.)

“Yo!” a man with his hair spiked and coloured bright green slapped Dirk on the shoulder. “You made it! About time, man!”

Dirk grinned, lighting up. “Hey, Ozzy,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Ah, y’know,” Ozzy drawled. “The usual.” Somehow, he had manipulated his tone in a way that made the connotation of those two words sound positively dirty, accompanied with a wink. “Come on, there’s beer pong in the other room! Mike’s up next, and you  _ know  _ he’s a piss-poor shot. We can crush him.”

“Alright, alright,” Dirk said, laughing. “I’ll play.” He took a step away from Todd and all of a sudden, it felt like the floor had gotten steeper underneath Todd’s feet. There was some shitty rap song playing through a speaker in the corner of the room, bass-boosted way too loud and shaking the ground. There were too many people, and Ozzy’s salacious gaze was raking up and down Todd, and Dirk was leaving.

A hand fell onto his shoulder and Todd flinched. Instead of loosening, it tightened, and Todd blinked into focus to see Dirk watching him, smile completely wiped off his face and every inch replaced with concern. Ozzy was nowhere in sight. Todd stared at Dirk, speechless and breathing coming short. Dirk’s mouth pursed, and then his hand slid lower until he had a grip on Todd’s wrist, tugging him through the crowd and leading them into another room.

This room had a couch in the middle, along with a TV and a bookshelf. The TV was off. Dirk turned around to shut the door behind them, effectively muffling the music to a dull thrum in the back of Todd’s head. There were three people exchanging conversation on the couch, dressed in various forms of ghouls and ghosts, faces milky-white. When Dirk and Todd entered the room, they looked up.

“Hi, Tina, Pantos, Silas,” Dirk rattled off. “Mind if we join you for a bit?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” one of the guys replied. 

“Cool.” Dirk gave them a thumbs-up before turning his attention to Todd. Somewhere along the way, his hand had slid lower to clasp Todd’s fingers. “Better?” he asked Todd, his voice soft, now, and it was blessedly quiet enough in the room that he was heard perfectly.

Feeling his heartbeat grow steady, Todd blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Much,” he said. “Thanks. And—sorry. You were going to go play.”

Dirk rolled his eyes. “Beer pong, shmear pong. Ozzy probably forgot he even talked to me at this point. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Todd nodded, but it must have not been very convincing, because Dirk’s face was still filled with concern. “If you want to leave, you can,” he said. “I know I pushed you into coming. You don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todd said, and then, feeling his courage grow, “You should go play. I’ll be fine.”

Dirk looked apprehensive. “You sure? You don’t wanna come along?” 

“Nah,” Todd said easily. “I think I might just grab a drink and hang out somewhere quieter. The music is—just awful.”

“Amen to that,” Tina called out from the couch. “Hey, man, you can chill with us. We’re cool.”

Todd looked at them. Tina was in the middle with her arm draped over the guy with cotton-candy pink hair. All three of them looked infinitely less inebriated than any of the dozens of people Todd had seen at the party so far.

“We don’t bite,” the guy on the right added. “Much.” He grinned, but there was no razor edge to it the way it did for Ozzy.

Todd thought for a moment.

Truth was, the more he saw of Dirk, the more he began to notice things. How much other people talked to each other, interacted with each other, made new friends and  _ had  _ friends. He had the growing realization, like a frame slowly coming into focus, of just how much he let his anxiety control him—to say no and stay home, to go out of his way to avoid seeing other people. It was something he’d slowly begun to be irritated by, and he thought,  _ How hard could it be? _

“Alright,” he said, and made a move towards the couch.

He noticed that Dirk was still holding his hand when it tightened on his own. He looked back with a raised eyebrow and Dirk let go of his hand, but still seemed apprehensive: chewing at his lip and shooting him nervous glances.

Todd gave him his best smile. “I’ll be fine,” he said. 

“You weren’t fine earlier,” Dirk muttered, and Todd felt a flare of embarrassment.

“Well, clearly, it’s a lot quieter here,” he said sharply. “I’m not a little kid, Dirk.”

Dirk’s expression was immediately crushed. “I know,” he said, gaze cast downwards. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just—I don’t want you to get into some sort of trouble, and it’s not an anxiety thing, it’s a  _ party  _ thing, like there are some  _ crazy  _ things that happen, and I don’t want you to get into those crazy things because I know you don’t like them and it’ll be technically my fault since I was the one who convinced you to come, and then you’ll hate me forever—”

“Dirk,” Todd said. “I won’t hate you forever. I promise.”

“You’ll come find me if you need anything?”

“Yes,” Todd said, rolling his eyes. Dirk stuck his tongue out at him and Todd gave him a light shove. “Now go.”

Instead of going, Dirk directed his attention to the three people on the couch, who were watching them with a faint amusement and curiosity. “You guys,” he said. “No hazing.”

“Aw, come on!” Tina shouted.

Dirk crossed his arms. “Remember the last time? With the oriental vase and the goat?”

Tina cringed, and said meekly, “Fine.”

“Fantastic,” Dirk said. “Todd, you have my number, right?”

“Yes,” Todd said, exasperated. “Seriously. Go. I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, Dirk,” Tina said. “We’ll take good care of your boyfriend for you.”

Todd felt his face flush. Dirk sputtered for a second, and then said, “I’m going to go now,” before doing just that.

_ “Finally,”  _ Tina said when the door clicked shut behind Dirk. “Jeez. Overprotective.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Todd said.

“Uh-huh,” Tina said, and shifted on the couch to pat the spot on her right. “Come on. Sit.”

The couch wasn’t very big, and Todd found himself pressed up between Tina and, as Tina introduced him, Panto.

“Hey, man,” Panto said, cheerfully knocking his shoulder against his. “So you’re the one stealing Dirk away from all of us, huh?”

Todd didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, Silas picked it up, talking from the other side of Tina. “He’s been skipping out on study groups,” he said.

“Oh,” Todd said. “You’re Dirk’s friends?”

“Everyone’s Dirk’s friend,” Panto said. “Well, kind of. We all know  _ of  _ him, that’s for sure.”

“It’s also why there’s this rumour going on,” Tina said. “Something about him seeing someone.” Her next words went unspoken, translated loudly through her pointed look at Todd.

Todd struggled to push down a shimmer of warmth. “It’s not like that,” he said. “He’s my apartment neighbour, that’s all.”

“Todd,” Silas said. “I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I don’t know Dirk very well—no one really does—and that’s why it makes all of this so strange.”

“He doesn’t really have a select group of friends,” Panto chimed in. “He kind of… jumps around. Both physically and metaphorically. It’s just curious how he treats you.”

Todd shifted uncomfortably between the two students. “It’s not like that,” he said.

“Eh,” Tina said. “Okay. What were we talking about before?”

“Oh, right!” Panto said, and turned to Todd. “What’s the best order for milk and sugar when you make coffee? Sugar, milk, coffee, right?”

“The milk cools down the coffee,” Tina argued.

“So does the sugar,” Panto said.

“I told you, Panto, that doesn’t make sense! Todd?”

“I drink it black,” Todd said, bewildered.

“Goddamnit.”

“Same here, man. Good to have an accomplice.” Silas reached across Tina for a fistbump, which Todd returned haphazardly, unsure what to do at first. His weak, tentative push of knuckles against knuckles made him wince, feeling awkward and out of place, but Silas’ smile didn’t falter, instead growing wider as he listened to Tina and Panto bicker and gradually dissolve into insults for the sake of insults alone.

Squished between the two of them and happy to fall into silence, Todd was surprised to find that it was shockingly pleasant. With the dynamic of the three of them preciously established, it was all too easy to sit back and allow them to dominate the conversation—something that, if not for the rapid-fire back and forth between the trio, would usually bring a silent awkwardness to the table. Todd picked up snippets of information here and there, learning that all three of them were Arts or Language majors, at one point hearing way too much about one of Tina’s creative erotica projects.

After around half an hour had passed, Todd was feeling decently parched. He excused himself for a drink, wincing at the stretch of his unused muscles as he got up from the couch and headed back into the living room that led to the kitchen. He braced himself for the noise and the crowd as he entered, the cacophony of electro funk and indecipherable chatter, sticking strictly to the walls as he tried his best not to be seen.

When a hand landed on his shoulder in a manner much too direct to be accidental, Todd whirled around and nearly socked Dirk in the face. Dirk yelped and scrambled back.

“Oh my god, Dirk, I’m so sorry,” Todd said, and Dirk laughed.

“Good reflexes,” he commented.

“Weren’t you playing beer pong?” 

Dirk shrugged. “For, like, ten minutes. Then I got bored. Hey, what about you?”

“Not much. Tina, Panto, and Silas are cool. I mostly just listened to them. I came to get a drink.”

“Ooh!” Dirk perked up. “I’ll make you one! I am  _ the best  _ at coming up with drinks for different people, trust me. I can make up a specific blend for each individual based on personal preference and alcohol tolerance. Speaking of personal preference and alcohol tolerance, what’s yours? Well, judging by your  _ terribly  _ sad dinner choices, it’s probably something like water, right?” He grinned.

Todd sighed. “I’ll take whatever,” he said. “Not too strong.”

“What percentage? Five? Seventeen? Eighty-seven?”

_ “Eighty-seven?”  _

“Eighty-seven?!” Dirk replied back, just as incredulously. “Todd, you party animal!”

“Wh—No. Absolutely not, Dirk. I very much enjoy my functioning liver. Just give me a drink, dammit.”

Dirk laughed. “You’re lucky I know you well. Hmm. You’re a nine, I think.” He reached out and patted Todd on the shoulder, and then winked before spinning around and disappearing to the kitchen.

Todd watched Dirk go with a tingling amusement before resigning himself to leaning against the wall, watching some poor unfortunate soul do a keg stand on the coffee table with mixed interest, concern, and sympathy. A moment later, he was aware of a pair of eyes on him. He looked around, and noticed a girl making her way towards him, long auburn hair done up in a bun with heavy green eyeshadow. When it was obvious that she was, in fact, heading for him and not anyone else, Todd felt a creeping unease and tried to convince himself it was paranoia. He forced a casual wave at her. She didn’t wave back.

Stopping right before him, she tilted her head and watched him unabashedly.

Todd made himself keep the stare. “Hi,” he said, letting the tail end of the word twitch up in a question.

“Hey,” the girl said. “What’s your name?”

“Todd.” Todd was beginning to feel antsy. Her stare was unnerving, and her smile had the tinge of something sharp.

“So, Todd,” Sarah said. “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your major?”

The music was too loud and the lights were too bright. “I, uh,” Todd said. “I’m not actually in school right now.”

“Oh?” Her voice was curious. “Really? Did you graduate already?”

“No,” Todd said, and took a gulp, feeling the fizz on his tongue. “I. I dropped out.”

“Oh.” This time, her voice had taken on a completely different tone, filled with things Todd didn’t need, didn’t want to hear—pity, shock, a deadpan disdain. “Wow.”

Todd debated between wading through the torturous small-talk that was clearly of malicious intent versus coming up with an obvious excuse to escape the conversation. Where was Dirk when he needed him? Maybe he’d used up his last drops of divine intervention at that bar.

“So how did you and Dirk meet?” Sarah clearly decided on the former. 

Oh, Todd thought. She must’ve seen the two of them talking. “Long story,” he ettled on. “He’s my apartment neighbour. Things escalated.”

“Escalated,” Sarah said, her voice going flat. Todd had the growing feeling that he’d said something wrong.

Sarah raised her own cup to her lips. Todd’s eyes darted to follow the motion, watching the way her lipstick left a red-ringed stain on the rim of the plastic.

“I dated Dirk once,” Sarah said.

And there it was. Todd startled for a moment—Dirk hadn’t told him that—before he took in her narrowed eyes and tight look and it clicked in his mind as jealousy. He wanted to laugh and shout in her face that they were just friends, that Todd would never be able to summon enough courage in his gut to do what he so desperately wanted to, and that that was a good thing because he didn’t deserve it, anyway. But instead, he said, “You did?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sarah said. “We met in first-year economics. We competed for top of the class. Dirk won, but I was a close second.”

“That’s nice,” Todd said, and winced at how condescending he sounded. “I mean, um.” Fuck. “Nevermind.”

Sarah tilted her head. “What is it that you do, Todd?”

Todd said, “I work at a bakery.”

“No, no. I mean, what made you and Dirk start… y’know.” She shrugged. “You two seem so, like. I mean, Dirk is, well,  _ Dirk.  _ And you’re…” She pursed her lips and waved her hand up and down over Todd. “It’s just that I don’t really see it.” Her voice had grown soft.

_ It’s just that I don’t really see it. _

What if she was right? What made him so goddamn special that Dirk, with his larger-than-life attitude and million-watt smiles and endlessly  _ interesting _ life, would want to be associated with someone like him?

“See what?”

Both of them turned at the voice.

“Dirk,” Todd said.

Dirk smiled at him. “Hi, Todd,” he said, and pushed a martini glass into his hands. “Hey, Sarah.”

“Dirk,” Sarah cooed. “So nice to see you again.”

“Uh-huh,” Dirk said. “Todd, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Todd managed.

Dirk squinted at him, clearing disbelieving, but turned back to Sarah. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Sarah said. “I was just wondering, are you and Todd, like… a thing, now?”

“What if we were?” Dirk said. 

Sarah pursed her lips. “That’s a shame,” she said. “You know, Dirk, you could do for a lot better.” She ran her eyes blatantly up and down Dirk. “I’d be happy to remind you.”

“I’m alright,” Dirk said. “Todd and I  _ aren’t _ dating, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know, but the fact that you would preposition me in front of him under the assumption and belief that we  _ were _ is quite disappointing on your behalf. I’m very sorry, Sarah. Excuse us.” He took Todd by the arm and, Todd, happily following, was led to another thankfully Sarah-free area of the room.

Once there, Dirk let go of Todd’s arm and ran a hand through his hair, sticking it up haphazardly in messy spikes. He looked frazzled. “Sorry,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Todd said. “Difficult history with her?”

Dirk winced. “You could say that. She, um. We were friends, actually. Or, I thought we were. Friends, I mean. Well, up until she kissed me. Apparently I was leading her on. Anyway. What did she tell you?”

At the prompting, Todd recalled her words again, and felt that familiar tightness clench up in his throat. Friend-zoned or not, Sarah was gorgeous and smart and he remembered the way Dirk had dismissed her just now. The way Tina had spoken about Dirk never being able to stick to one friend group—much less one person. He thought about himself: the way he couldn’t look strangers in the eye. The way he couldn’t stand being in a room with more than a dozen people without his stomach cramping up and his throat going tight. He was so painfully, glaringly  _ normal— _ less than, even. How could he compare?

Instead of answering, he said, “Silas told me you started skipping some study sessions.”

Dirk blinked. “Oh, yeah. Maybe a few. Why?”

“Why did you skip them?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with you,” Dirk said easily.

“But  _ why?”  _ Todd pushed.

Dirk looked befuddled. “What do you mean, why?”

“I just,” Todd said, trying to come up with the right words without sounding like a petulant teenage girlfriend. He stumbled a bit. “You’re so  _ this  _ and  _ that  _ and you always go to these parties, and I… well, I don’t. I don’t do anything, really. It’s just that I don’t really see it.”

Dirk was silent for a moment, and then, to Todd’s confusion, he jerked his chin at the drink in Todd’s hands. “Go on, try it.”

Slightly caught off-guard, Todd took a sip. He held it in his mouth for a second, then swallowed.

Dirk was staring at him with the intensity of a thousand suns. “Well?”

“It’s good,” Todd said. It was sweet and bubbly with just the right amount of edge. “Wow. It’s really good.” He took a gulp, then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” Dirk said. He was holding his own cup, and Todd peered at it.

“What’s yours?”

“Oh, this?” Dirk shook the cup lightly. “I call it ‘Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night’.”

“Eighty-seven percent?”

Dirk hummed. “A little bit less.”

Todd snorted, and took another sip of his own drink. “This is really, really good,” he said. “Thanks, Dirk. You’re the best.” Okay, maybe he’d downed the first few sips a little too quickly. “Can you believe it? I’m at a real party. A college party, with drugs and alcohol and all that jazz. I can’t believe you got me here. How crazy is all this?”

He grinned at Dirk, who was watching him with a small smile.

“I can’t fathom how you don’t really see it,” Dirk said.

“Huh?” Todd said. “See what?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dirk said. “Todd, you know that, whatever Sarah said about you—don’t listen to her, okay?”

“Pssh,” Todd said, mumbling a little. “I dunno, man. It’s like, I know she was just being mean and all but it’s not like she’s wrong _ ,  _ y’know? I  _ am  _ a college dropout. I  _ am  _ less, like. Outgoing. Friendly. Stuff like that. Than you, I mean. I feel like if we weren’t apartment neighbours you wouldn’t even want to talk to me.”

“Todd,” Dirk said, after a pause. “Do you wanna know what your drink is called?”

“What?”

“I call it the Nine Out of Ten,” Dirk said. “Todd, I might be a lot of things, almost  _ too _ much at times. The stuff that I’m not, that’s where you come in and fill all the gaps.”

“Nine out of ten,” Todd muttered, and chuckled. “Are you calling me a one out of ten?”

Dirk smiled. “I’m saying you’re the one.”

Todd paused. “That was smooth,” he finally said, his voice slightly strangled in his attempt at brevity.

“Todd,” Dirk said. “Maybe you are all those things, but that doesn’t make you  _ less  _ of anything. It makes you more. They’re all parts of what makes you, you. And I know all that about you, and those parts of you are a part of what made me friends with you. And I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

Todd felt himself flush, and hoped that the odd lighting in this place masked it enough. Or that he could decently pass it off as the alcohol; it wouldn’t be a far leap in assumption. “Thanks, Dirk,” he said. He was just glad the music was some funk electro-rap kind of amalgam and not anything romantic, because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take it at the moment.

Just then, the song that was playing faded to the end, and a gentle, sweet piano chord rung through the air.

Todd froze. There was no way.

“Here’s to all the couples tonight!” someone yelled.

Todd wanted to scream. There was no doubt: the universe hated him.

A look at Dirk’s face showed that he was just as surprised at Todd. The song continued on, a smooth voice ringing through the suddenly-subdued room. The entire ambiance changed as people began to make their way through the crowds, grabbing their chosen partner, intertwining together and swaying to the beat.

“Um,” Todd said.

Dirk made a non-committal sound, staring very hard at a spot on Todd’s face.

“So,” Todd said.

“Yes, Todd?” Dirk replied, too quickly.

“Should we,” Todd said, and coughed.

“Erm,” Dirk said. “If you want to?”

Fuck, Todd said. Don’t put this on  _ him. _ “I will if you want to.”

Dirk’s eyebrow twitched. “I will want to if you want to.”

“What?” Todd said.

“Well? Well what? Do you want to if I want to if you want to?”

“What?” Todd said again. 

Dirk made a scrunched-up face that looked mildly constipated, and Todd had to laugh. It was enough for him to gain the courage to take a graceful step back and extend a hand.

Dirk looked at it with wide eyes, then back to Todd.

“Come on,” Todd said.

“You want to?” Dirk said, taking Todd’s hand by instinct, but still looking surprised.

Todd rolled his eyes, even though he was making his way towards the centre of the room and had his back turned to Dirk. “I want to if you want to,” he said, mildly teasing now.

“Oh, well,” Dirk said, in the same tone, “I want to if you want me to want you to. _ ” _

Todd turned around to put a hand on Dirk’s waist. The other went around his shoulder, curling to cup the back of his neck. “Do you want to dance or not?”

“Yes,” Dirk said, and smiled.

“Good,” Todd said. “But I’m leading.”

“Fine,” Dirk said, and allowed Todd to lightly rest a hand on his back and guide him around the room, falling into an easy three-step semi-waltz kind of thing.

“I didn’t know you knew how to waltz,” he commented after a beat had passed

“Amanda forced me to help her learn before prom night,” Todd said. “How do you know?”

“Learned one day when I was bored,” Dirk said, because of course he did.

“‘Course you did,” Todd said. They fell into a pleasant lull as the music continued to swell.

Gradually, Todd became aware of how warm Dirk’s hands were where they rested against him, the proximity of him. He knew there were other people in the room—the occasionally jostling of elbows proved as much—but, all of a sudden, it didn’t seem as overwhelming as it was before. They were there, but they weren’t bothering him. They didn’t matter anymore, not right now. Dirk’s touch grounded him, growing into a steady, shimmering focus as they swayed and stepped.

Dirk had lost his deerstalker detective hat sometime during the night, and his hair was a mess. His eyes, despite the alcohol that gave his cheeks a rosy tinge, were bright and attentive and never swaying from Todd. Todd blinked, and it was like he was noticing it for the first time, just how beautiful his friend was.

“Your eyes,” he found himself saying. “I can never figure out what colour they are.”

Those eyes softened at his words. Right now, they were a dark, dark blue, like a bottomless sea.

“I’m going to say this right now,” Dirk said, his voice matching Todd’s in its hushed tone, scarcely heard above the music. “Because I know you’re too tipsy to be able to remember it properly tomorrow.” His voice dropped even more, and Todd felt himself leaning in closer just to be able to catch it.

Just a few inches taller than Todd, Dirk needed to duck his head down to properly meet his eyes. “Whoever says, whoever  _ thinks,  _ even the slightest bit, that you’re not every ounce as amazing as I know you are—I feel pity for them, but at the same time, I’m glad. Because I want to keep this part of you all to myself. They don’t deserve to see it.”

“Dirk,” Todd said.

Dirk didn’t say anything more; just kept smiling and giving Todd that  _ look— _ filled with so much affection Todd couldn’t stand it, could feel it bubbling up in him until it was overwhelming, until he needed to let it out. He tilted his head and let his lips meet Dirk’s the way they wanted to since when, he couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter anymore. And when Dirk made a soft noise in his throat and his hands came out to capture Todd’s face, stroke his thumbs across his cheekbones and tangle in his hair, nothing else mattered, either.


	4. Chapter 4

Todd woke up and immediately regretted it.

He groaned and opened his eyes, wincing at the horrid piercing light. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since college. He pushed himself to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes, and froze when he realized he didn’t recognize his surroundings.

Unmoving, he let his eyes wander around the room. It was, for lack of a better word, a mess. The wallpaper was a pale robin’s egg blue and had a giant whiteboard hanging from the far wall, covered in illegible scribbles and doodles. The table next to the bed was piled with objects and papers, stacked high and cluttered. The closet at the foot of the bed was open wide, revealing a colourful array of various outerwear. Todd could recognize those colours anywhere.

Panic, sharp and heady, pierced through him. He was in  _ Dirk’s  _ bedroom.

And then his eyes landed on the side of the bed. Heart in his mouth, his gaze drifted from a body, completely buried beneath two layers of blankets, slowly moving up to a disarray of dirty-blonde hair.

Fuck.

Todd scrambled out of the bed before he could register what he was doing, and stood, chest heaving and head thudding with bright bursts of pain as the headrush nearly knocked him back down again.

Dirk didn’t stir.

Fuck, Todd thought again. He quickly looked down at himself—he was wearing the same things he’d worn to the party. Jeans, t-shirt, denim jacket. He wracked his mind for a spotty recollection: he remembered the couch, the drink—Sarah—and then the dance. He drew in a sharp breath, unable to stifle it, when the memory of the kiss came rushing back. Fuck. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced when it came away, sticky with spilled beer. 

The rest was a blur. He remembered hysterically laughing at Dirk. Stumbling across the sidewalks. Dirk microwaving a tortilla wrapped around a candy bar in his apartment. (What?)

He shook his head, trying to clear the thick heady fog. He felt nausea rise up in him and forced it down. It was replaced with panic, always panic, as he thought about what he could’ve done.

He remembered Sarah’s words, remembered Dirk’s vehement denial. The kiss. (The kiss.)

It wasn’t anything like regret more than a sharp, twisting terror. Because even if what Sarah had said was spurred from jealousy, it fed the insecurity in him and let it blossom into a cruel black rose.

The clock on the wall told him it was well past noon. It was Saturday. Todd had a shift in two hours.

He turned towards the door and he ran.

-+-+-+-

When Farah saw him, she grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side of the store. “You look terrible,” she said bluntly. “What happened?”

And Todd didn’t want to burden her, but the weight of both Dirk and Amanda were building up in him and the pressure from the inside out was so strong it was nearly crushing his ribs. He couldn’t keep all of it in and before he knew it, the events that happened at the party with Dirk all spilled out. He watched helplessly as Farah’s eyes got wider and wider and she had her hand clasped over her mouth by the end of it.

“What do I  _ do?”  _ Todd said desperately. “God, he was so drunk and I was so drunk and I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Woah, hey, hey,” Farah interrupted him. “Todd. Let me ask you a few questions. Did you want to kiss him before that night, at the party?”

Todd made a sound low in his chest and gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

To his relief, Farah merely nodded. “And did Dirk kiss you back?”

“I—” Todd knew what she was doing, but he couldn’t accept it. “Yes, but—he was drunk, and you don’t—”

“Being drunk only lowers your inhibitions,” Farah said. “It doesn’t change someone’s opinion. I know it wasn’t ideal, but if Dirk kissed you back, he probably wanted to. And, I’m not one to say, but I’ve seen Dirk around you, and that boy’s got it bad for you.”

“Fuck,” Todd hissed, clutching his head. “I don’t know. Even if—I’m scared, okay?”

“What are you scared of? Him not liking you back?”

Todd shook his head, because he’d had the inkling of a suspicion for a while now, and Farah’s words was the final nail in the coffin. Well, that along with the fact that Dirk had kissed him and then let him sleep in his bed overnight—and god knows what else, fuck—

“Todd!” Todd jerked himself forcefully, painfully back into attention. He blinked rapidly a few times and did his best to centre his breathing, focusing on Farah’s concerned expression. “Are you okay? Do you need me to cover your shift?”

“No,” Todd said. “No, I’m fine. I just.” Forget hungover, he was still drunk, because the next thing that he said was, “Farah, do you remember when you went to take a call, and I needed to cover you?”

Frowning at the abrupt change in subject, Farah tilted her head. “Yeah. You went home afterwards. Dirk told me something about a headache.”

Todd felt a gratefulness rise up inside of him for Dirk, who was evidently allowing Todd to tell others at his own comfort and only when he was ready. “It wasn’t a headache. Some girl had an allergic reaction and I—I had a panic attack.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Farah said, “Oh.” When Todd chanced a glance up at her, her eyes were open and unassuming, not a trace of judgement on her face. It was enough to make him keep going.

“You know how I prefer working in the kitchen,” he forged on. “It’s because I can’t handle it sometimes, when there are too many people, and if they get angry, or frustrated, I just. I, well. Panic.”

“Oh, Todd.” Stepping closer, Farah reached out a hand to touch him, then hesitated. “I’m so sorry for making you do that. You should’ve told me.”

“I know.” Todd smiled encouragingly at her, and she let her hand fall onto his shoulder. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and, well. I didn’t tell you either.”

Farah absentmindedly brushed her thumb back and forth against Todd’s collar. “Does Dirk know?”

“Dirk was the one who calmed me down,” Todd answered. 

“So he’s seen you during one,” Farah said. “And he’s known you for a while now, and he knows how you get nervous, and the way you act in crowds, and the way you interact with others, and him.” She tilted her head. “What’s the problem, then? Why are you scared?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing,” Todd blurted out, the words feeling so much heavier, like the pounding of a gavel, a verdict now that he’d spoken them out loud. “I’ve never—Farah, I’ve never been in a relationship before. I was an asshole throughout high school and a nervous wreck right after that, and then I met Dirk and he’s just—he’s going to be disappointed in me, I just know it. I won’t be enough.”

Todd paused to take in a breath, and Farah held up a hand to signal him to stop talking. He shut his mouth.

“I think you should talk to Dirk about this,” Farah said. “It’s not up to me—nor is it up to you—to decide whether or not he thinks you’re enough. That’s his choice, and you need to hear it from him.”

Todd said, “I don’t know if I can.”

Farah pursed her lips, and then shook her head quickly. “That’s alright,” she said. “If you won’t approach it, Dirk will. Maybe that’s his decision, too. Let’s just get back to work.”

Grateful for the subject drop, Todd smiled at Farah. “Thanks for listening.”

Farah ruffled Todd’s hair. “Anytime.” 

So Todd went back to work. He made a batch of chocolate chips and chopped almond cookies and put them in the fridge to chill. He iced a couple of special seasonal cookies: red mittens and pale-blue snowflakes. He replaced and restocked the glass display, adamantly refusing to look at the customers that entered the shop whilst doing so, in fear or in anticipation, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t see any sign of Dirk.

An hour into his shift, his phone vibrated in his pocket. When Todd saw it was from Dirk, he felt a pang in his chest and swiped it away without opening the text. He couldn’t face him—not now. Five minutes later, it pinged again. Again: Dirk. Again: ignored. The day passed with him steadfastly ignoring the growing wave of notifications that steadily made their way through his phone, each an individual fire ant on his fraying nerves, and by the time he went home he was so on edge he nearly fumbled and dropped his keys opening the door to his apartment.

He fed Jaws—even the damn cat reminded him of Dirk—and allowed her to curl up in his lap and purr while he stroked her ears and watched reruns of some old sitcom on the tv.

He was heating up some Kraft Dinner when someone knocked on the door.

_ Landlord _ was his immediate thought. He frowned. Did he forget to pay rent? He could’ve sworn he remembered. Whoever it was knocked again. “Coming!” Todd shouted, and turned off the stove before heading for the door.

He looked through the peephole and was stunned to a shocked standstill to see Dirk. He had a look of nervous anticipation on his face, hand poised to knock again.

Before he could, Todd swung open the door.

“Todd!” Dirk said immediately.

He was wearing an honest-to-god button up; dark navy blue instead of his usual screaming neon. He was carrying a box in his hands.

“You used the front door,” was the only thing Todd could think of saying.

“Excellent observation,” Dirk said cheerily, and then winced. “Sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to incorporate any of my strange humour and mannerisms into this conversation because I wanted it to be a  _ serious  _ one rather than the usual, I talk a lot while you stand and stare and say one word responses, kind of like what's happening right now.”

“Okay,” Todd said. Dirk snapped his fingers.

“Right on cue! Oops, I did it again. Did you know that's the second Britney Spears song I've quoted today?”

Todd wasn't up for, as per the words of Dirk, 'the usual'. “Dirk, why are you here?”

Dirk opened his mouth and then closed it again, and then he chewed on his lip and tapped his finger against his chin for a moment before leaning in quizzically and asking, hesitating before speaking, “Are you…  _ mad  _ at me?”

“I,” Todd said. “Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe.”

Dirk paused. “You just gave me every single answer you could've given me.”

And despite everything, Todd laughed.

“I don't know what I am at you,” he finally said.

Dirk seemed to turn that over in his head. “That was better than what I was expecting,” he admitted.

“What were you expecting?”

Dirk shrugged. “For you not to open the door? Slam it in my face? Um, slide your pet rat  _ who hates me _ through the mail slot to attack me with his sharp, sharp teeth?”

“What?”

“Long story. I'll tell you some other time.” Dirk winced. “I mean, if I get the chance to. If you wanted to, I mean. If you were willing to, and was open to the idea of still talking to me.”

“What?” Todd asked inanely. “Dirk, what are you  _ talking about?” _

Dirk bounced on his heels in a clear nervous tic. His eyes kept darting around Todd's face. “Aren't you going to…” He made a  _ carry on  _ gesture with his hands, a rapid rolling motion.

Todd felt something inside him shift as he took a closer look at Dirk. There was something in his eyes that made him feel starkly  _ wrong _ and out of place, a bit of dullness that didn't belong in Dirk. An awful sort of reluctant, bitter acceptance.

Suddenly, Todd felt lost in the midst of their conversation. “Dirk, what's going on with you?”

“Nothing's going on with me!” Dirk cried out. “What's going on with  _ you?” _

"I don't know," Todd said. "What's happening?"

"I don't know!" Dirk made a garbled noise in his throat and threw his arms up in the air, inadvertently swinging the bag hanging on his wrist around the air. "My god, this is the worst let’s-be-friends-slash-break-up speech I've ever heard!"

"Wait, what?" Todd stumbled back. "You're breaking up with me?"

"No!" Dirk shouted. "Are  _ you  _ breaking up with  _ me?" _

"No!" Todd said incredulously. "What made you think I was breaking up with you? And—hold on, we’re  _ together?” _

"Hold that second thought, but on the first bit, oh, I don’t know, maybe because you left without saying goodbye, ignored all my texts, and when I went to the bakery Farah told me to talk to you with this terrifyingly serious expression and told me that if I hurt you she’d give me an up-close and personal tour of her extensive gun collection?"

"She  _ what?" _

“Second thought!” Dirk cried out. “I don’t know  _ what  _ we are, and that’s exactly what’s making me so—so—” He made an exploding motion with his hands and a sound effect to go along with it before helplessly dropping them to his sides. “But—you just said—you're  _ not _ breaking up with me?"

"I don't know! Was I supposed to?"

"No? I don't know? I was adequately prepared for the possibility?"

Todd felt like this conversation felt like riding one of those mechanical bulls in Western-themed bars. "Do you  _ want  _ me to break up with you?"

"No!" Dirk shouted.

"Okay!" Todd shouted back.

They stared at each other, breathing echoing loudly in the enclosed hallway.

"You two are the stupidest goddamn couple alive," someone called out through their door somewhere to Todd's left.

"Hey!" Dirk said, sounding offended.

Todd snorted. "They're not wrong," he said. "Why don't you come in?"

It spoke volumes about their relationship when Todd found it odd to see Dirk coming in for once through the front door and not via balcony-hopping. He seemed uncomfortable, shuffling through the doorway with a nervous glance at his feet. Todd shut the door behind them.

Dirk raised his head and sniffed the air. "What is that?"

"Dinner," Todd said.

"No, wait, don't tell me—" Dirk paused dramatically. "Kraft Dinner."

"Bingo."

Dirk sighed. "Todd Brotzman, what am I gonna do with you?"

"Make me a better dinner?" Todd suggested.

Dirk narrowed his eyes at him. "You're doing this on purpose," he accused. "You're exploiting me!"

Grinning, Todd raised his hands, palms facing the other. "Guilty as charged. Is it working?"

Dirk cast a look towards the kitchen, his face taking on an air of despair. "Absolutely," he said. "But at my place. I refuse to work in your sad excuse for a kitchen."

"My kitchen is very well-stocked, thank you very much."

"Seriously, how can you have  _ vanilla beans  _ but no chili powder?"

"How do you have saffron but no baking powder?"

Dirk shook his head mournfully. "I don't know if this relationship is going to work," he said, and then both of them realized at the same time.

The smile slid off Todd's face. Dirk visibly cringed. The atmosphere thickened so fast Todd swore his ears popped.

"I forgot we were talking about that," Dirk said.

"Me, too," Todd said.

"Maybe let's save the dinner for later," Dirk suggested.

"Alright." Todd crossed his arms and waited.

Dirk said nothing.

After a long, excruciating pause, Todd cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to…"

"I don't know what I'm doing!" The words seemed to explode out of Dirk.

Todd blinked. “That’s my line,” he said, a little startled.

“Well, it’s mine, too,” Dirk said petulantly. He took a deep breath. "Okay. So this is how it usually works. Step one: I get into a relationship with someone. Platonic, romantic, some weird grey space in the middle—whatever. Usually, this is via some utterly fantastical situation that I somehow keep getting into and the relationship-ee is charmed! Awed! Amazed! Conclude step one.

“Step two: I mess up. Step two usually occurs within a few weeks of step one, and it's always,  _ always,  _ my fault. I don't give them enough attention, I forget something they said, I don't listen well enough, or I push and I push and—well, or I  _ kiss  _ them, for the love of—and believe me when I say that while all of this sounds exactly like a breakup, friend-breakups, or eccentric grey-space breakups, are entirely alike, and they hurt just as much.

“Step three, side A: they end it. I’m too loud, too annoying, too  _ much.  _ It’s not them, it’s me. Step three, side B: I cordially accept it, apologize for whatever misgivings I have created, and move on. This is foolproof, this has occurred to me four times in the past two years and I have established a healthy—er, not so much healthy—a perfectly fine and blase routine. But it is  _ not  _ working with you!”

"Step one: check! Step two: check! Step three, sides A and B: error! Side A: you are  _ not _ breaking up with me, and if you are, you are doing such an awful job at it that I cannot seem to process it. Side B: I have tried to prepare for this step as I always do, but it is  _ not  _ going well. I cannot accept it. I tried to bake cupcakes as a parting gift but I ate them all because I didn't want to have to face the scenario in which I would need to give them to you. If I think about it, I panic. I  _ miss  _ you,  _ terribly, _ and you haven't even broken up with me yet! And apparently you’re not going to, but I can’t fathom why!"

Dirk flung his arms up in the air with a helpless noise, and then he wiped his hands down his face in a hopeless gesture. His shoulders heaved.

"So that's my side," he said, voice muffled through his palms. "Your turn."

Todd stared, a little speechless. Dirk’s harsh breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room.

“I just spilled all my insecurities towards you,” Dirk mumbled. “And I have  _ never  _ done that to anyone other than the guidance counselor at my high school and thus I am feeling rather mortified at the moment. Please say something.”

“Uh,” Todd said. “Okay. Um. First things first, I'm not going to break up with you.”

Dirk slowly lowered his hands from his face. His eyes were dangerously bright. "You're not?"

"No," Todd said. “I think I was the one who kissed you first, actually.”

Dirk’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

Todd nodded. 

“So you like me?” Dirk’s voice was softly hopeful. “Like—like  _ that?” _

“No, Dirk,” Todd deadpanned, “I made out with you because you’re such an awesome friend.”

Dirk looked stricken. “What?”

“God, I’m joking!” Todd groaned. “I swear, talking to you is the most confusing thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Dirk said. “I don’t mean it. It just happens, it just comes out, and I’m not even off my meds, it’s just—this is all me.”

Todd felt a prickle of concern as he spotted the guilt in Dirk’s expression. “Dirk, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying—” God, his head hurt. He forcefully wrenched the conversation back to where he had willed it to go. “I like you. In a romantic way. A lot.”

“Oh,” Dirk whispered.

“Yeah,” Todd said.

“Then why did you leave?”

“Because I’m scared, too,” Todd confessed. He waited for the same surge of shame and panic to rise in his stomach, and found with a jolt of shock that it was gone. He looked up at Dirk, at his nervous expression and open eyes, and realized that, with his own confession and honesty, Dirk had gently pushed the both of them past each others boundaries and into a zone of acceptance. It was an amazing feeling, and Todd embraced it with open arms, taking the chance to delve deep into his own thoughts. “Believe it or not, I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”

A faint smile played on Dirk’s lips. “Well, don’t we make a remarkable pair.”

Todd huffed out a laugh. “I’ve never been in a relationship before,” he said. “You’ve seen me at parties and crowds. I don’t know if I can be enough for you.”

“You’re enough,” Dirk said immediately. “You don’t need to do anything except be yourself.”

Todd’s eyebrow twitched. “God, that’s such a cheesy line.”

Dirk cringed, too. “Oh my god, I know.”

“I guess it’s true,” Todd said. “And, same to you, too. You said you were scared of messing up.” He tossed the metaphorical ball back to Dirk.

Dirk nodded fervently. "I'm afraid—I'm terrified—of doing it again.” His words came out in a rush. “Messing up. Slipping up. Just making a royal chaotic mess of everything like I always do."

"How would you mess up?" Todd said.

"Hoo boy," Dirk said, and raised up ten fingers and began systematically ticking them off. "I get really,  _ really  _ focused on school sometimes, to the point where I ignore everything else. I'm a terrible, just terrible listener. I will never remember birthdays and anniversaries. I get so wrapped up in my own thoughts sometimes that I don't acknowledge the other person at all. Sometimes I get really into things and I push and I push and I push and I push to the point of a metaphorical breakage." He dropped his hands. "The list goes on."

“Oh, Dirk,” Todd said, and, without thinking, acting on instinct only, reached out and pulled him into a crushing hug.

To his surprise, Dirk immediately returned it, clutching Todd’s back almost desperately.

“I don’t want to mess up,” he said, so quietly Todd nearly missed it. “Not with you.”

“It’s okay,” Todd said.

“I know I’m going to mess up.”

“That’s okay.” Todd stroked a hand down Dirk’s back before tracing it back up along his spine; up and down. “I’m going to mess up, too. We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Dirk sighed, breath tickling Todd’s ear, and held him closer. “Okay.”

-+-+-+-

"I can't go to another one of those parties. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever. Just: the noise, the crowds, it drives me up the walls."

"Of course. You don't have to. I might need to go to those parties. I love the energy and the people all coming together."

“That’s fine. I can be really, really sensitive. I can wind the smallest thing into a huge deal, no matter how petty or insignificant. And I'll latch onto you and blame you for it, not because it was your fault, but because I need an outlet."

"I can work with that. I forget small details, and brush people off without noticing, especially when I’m in the middle of an important project.”

“That’s okay.”

“When I got super freaked out when you found out I had anxiety, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you enough. I was scared you’d be… I don’t know. Weirded out. When some people realize I have it, it’s like they start walking on eggshells around me. It’s not like I’m a different person from who I was before.”

“I had an prof in first-year who refused to let me get up and take breaks during lectures. He told me something like, ‘everyone has a little bit of ADHD’. Well, bugger off, Mr. Trent, because I have a  _ lot  _ of it.”

“My best friend in high school stole my ADHD meds and sold them. When I finally caught him, he told me I was just pretending to have it in order to get the meds, and it was only fair for me to share it with the other, less fortunate people without a diagnosis.”

“Jesus!”

“It’s alright, Todd. It was a long time ago. Unlike you, though, he never really came around. It was hard to let him go, but I learned to get over it. It hurt more that he didn’t fundamentally  _ understand, _ than the fact that he stole from me. There’s been a lot of people in my life who just  _ don’t.  _ Don’t understand, don’t work, don’t click. I’ve learned to focus on the things that really matter.”

“What time is it?”

“Two fifteen.”

“Wait, seriously? When did you come over?”

“Little past midnight, I think.”

“Damn.”

“What can I say? I suppose the saying is true. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t say fun. Long, dangerously real, and emotionally draining is more like it.”

“Well, I enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Even the part where you cried?”

“Hey! Hypocrite.”

“Touché. It is rather cleansing, though, don’t you think? I read an article once on crying therapy. It’s a real thing! Catharsis and all that jazz.”

“Hm.”

“I also read an article once that said that nights were made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

“That’s an Arctic Monkeys lyric.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

“I guess so. I definitely wouldn’t have said… any of the stuff I told you.”

“Oooh. Should I be taking advantage?”

“Don’t you dare. I’m tired and emotionally drained and I just want to go to bed. You can stay over again, I know your neighbours are a pain.”

“Erm.”

“What?”

“What I’m about to tell you may be a demonstration of the accuracy of that Arctic Monkeys lyric.”

“Dirk?”

“I may have slipped them that anonymous note you wrote.”

“What?”

“Um. There is a mild, slight,  _ teensy  _ chance that they have stopped.”

“Dirk, when did this happen?”

“... Like a month ago?”

“Come on! Seriously?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know how to tell you!”

“How about,  _ Hey, Todd, my neighbours stopped having crazy loud sex! Hooray! I don’t have to sleep over anymore!” _

_ “But I wanted to sleep over.” _

“I—what? Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what, my couch is more comfortable than your bed?”

“Shut up. You know why.”

“No, I don’t. Go on, Dirk, tell me.”

“Because I liked spending time with you and it was an excuse for me to hang out with you. There. Stop smiling like that.”

“Alright, alright. Here: fair trade. You get to ask me something, too, and I promise to answer honestly.”

“Oh, golden opportunity! I’ll need to think about this.”

“Take your time.”

“Alright, I got it. What's something you've always wanted to do, but have been too afraid to? Wait, no, don't tell me. Just think of something. And as soon as you can, I want you to do that thing."

“That’s a strange request. Why?”

“Because you need to learn to take chances, Todd. Take  _ control _ of your life. Don’t let your anxiety control you.”

"There's a reason why I'm too scared to do it, you know. It might be more than just my anxiety."

"Well, think about it, then. Is this fear rational, and what's the worst that can happen? How negatively will it affect you? I mean, obviously, if it's something like 'I want to murder someone' then the fear of someone dying is probably not a fear if you wanted them to die, but probably don't go and murder someone, even if you want to—"

"I got it, Dirk."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'm supposed to do it as soon as I can?"

"Yup. ASAP."

"Okay."

"Did you know that if you say the letters of a shortened name, it's called an initialism, but when you pronounce it all as a single sound, it's called an acronym?"

"Dirk?"

"Yes, Todd?"

"Stop talking."

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

"..."

"And close your eyes, too."

-+-+-+-

“Heya, Todd. What’s up?”

“Amanda.”

“That’s me. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Amanda, I—I have anxiety.”

“You what?”

“I had my first panic attack two years ago.”

“Where? What happened?”

“It was during a college lecture. I can’t even remember what it was on. Physics or something. I was writing a test I couldn’t understand, and I was already struggling in the class, and for some reason I kept on thinking I forgot to lock my apartment door that morning. I started thinking about failing college and having all my stuff robbed, and I couldn’t handle it.”

“Did you leave the room?”

“No. I just sat there hyperventilating until the prof noticed and asked me what was wrong. I think I didn’t even answer. She led me outside and then helped me calm down. After, she asked me why I never told her about my anxiety, and I wanted to tell her that I didn’t even know I had it.”

“Awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“And that was two years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Two  _ years?  _ Two fucking years? Todd, why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Back when you had it, and I was around, the way I treated you—I was such an asshole, and I just. I don’t want you to think the only reason I changed was because I experienced it myself.”

“But was it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do mom and dad know?”

“No.”

“Jesus  _ Christ,  _ Todd.”

“I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve told you, but I’m just so scared that you’ll hate me, and even if I deserve it—”

“Todd, shut up. Take deep breaths.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m good now. Sorry.”

“No worries. I know the feeling. Look, I don’t hate you, okay?”

“You don’t?”

“Nah. It was a long time ago, and teenagers are assholes. Maybe you were more of an asshole than usual, but you’re different now. I can see that. Whether or not it was because of your anxiety, it doesn’t matter anymore. As long as you’re better now, which I know you are.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude. Okay, maybe I’m a little pissed at you for keeping this a secret for so long, but it’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. You’re still my brother.”

“Amanda.”

“God, don’t tell me you’re crying.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, bitch.”

“Oh, also—check your email.”

_ Email from mexican_funeral@gmail.com to brotzman_manda@gmail.com: _

INTERAC transfer: 20.00

**Seriously?**

_ :) _

**Jeez, hypocrite with the emoticons much? Also: I TOLD YOU SO.**

_ Yeah, yeah. You’re the best sister ever. _

**You bet.**

**Hey, you know what I just realized?**

_ What? _

**You don’t have an excuse not to follow my Instagram anymore.**

_ Seriously? _

**Follow it NOW**

_ Since you asked so nicely… _

**Didn’t we agree on no sarcasm over text?**

_ Yeah, totally. _

**Todd!!**

_ Okay, fine, I followed it. Happy? _

**:D**

-+-+-+-

“Morning, Max,” Todd said, coming into the kitchen and grabbing his apron off the shelves. “Wow, that smells amazing. What is that?”

“Pumpkin pie,” Max said from the sink, where he was scrubbing up some bowls and utensils. “You’re probably smelling the nutmeg and black pepper.”

“Black pepper?” Todd said, and sniffed again. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it smells like it works. I swear, you always have the weirdest secret ingredients, but somehow they turn out perfect.”

He busied himself with joining Max at the sink, taking what he’d just washed to dry and put away, humming under his breath.

Two bowls later, he realized Max had stopped washing. Looking up, Todd noticed him watching him with those beady dark eyes of his. His own movements slowed, then stopped. “What?”

“You’re chatty this morning,” Max said.

Todd felt embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said.

Max grunted. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Nothing,” Todd said, and grabbed another bowl to dry.

Three bowls later, he mumbled, “Dirk and I are dating,” and then tore the inside of his cheek into shreds as he waited for Max’s response.

When it finally came, it was in the form of a quiet snort. “About time,” Max said, and then handed Todd a spatula. “Two batches of gingersnaps.”

“You got it, boss,” Todd said, smiling so wide he felt his face hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

“If you say one more thing about the sweater I am going to take it off and strangle you with it.”

Unfazed at Todd’s death glare, Dirk grinned and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. “You’re so romantic,” he cooed, before changing his angle to meet Todd’s mouth instead.

From the living room, Amanda yelled. “I told you, not where I can see it!”

“Grow up,” Todd said, but he felt himself flush anyway and gently detached himself from Dirk, who made an unhappy noise and wrapped his arms around Todd’s waist like an overly-friendly octopus decked out in red-and-green sparkles. 

“Jesus,” Todd muttered, reaching out to tug at one of the many, many jingle bells adorning Dirk’s torso. “Seriously, where did you get this thing?”

“You’d be surprised what you can find at thrift shops,” Dirk said. “Or, you know. Kijiji.”

Alarmed, Todd took a step back—or tried to, and stumbled a little, off-balance, when Dirk’s hold tightened around him to keep him in place. “Please say you washed it,” he said faintly.

Dirk laughed softly and bumped his forehead against Todd’s. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I made sure to pick out all the bugs.”

From the couch, Amanda cackled as Todd yelped and shoved Dirk away. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” Dirk promised, grabbing onto the edge of the kitchen counter for balance, but let Todd go.

Todd tried to straighten out the wrinkles in his own sweater—a striped one proudly displaying the twelve reindeer, and one that looked  _ infinitely _ better than the monstrosity that was Dirk’s sweater, thank you very much—while he walked out of the kitchen and plopped himself down next to Amanda, who was sitting on the carpet in front of the sofa, wrangling a roll of shiny gold wrapping paper while trying to keep Jaws from pouncing and shredding the whole thing. Todd scooped up the growling cat—who weighed a whole lot more these days, what the hell was Dirk feeding her—and made hushing noises at her until she settled down in his lap, opting to paw at the knitted Prancer on his chest.

“Thank god,” Amanda said gratefully. “That damn cat was going to chew up the whole gift, I swear.”

“That better not be for me,” Todd commented as he saw what she was wrapping: a box of bright-blue hair dye.

“That  _ better  _ be for me,” Dirk said, wandering over as well.

Todd squinted at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the stove?”

“Eh,” Dirk said, waving in a way that looked like it was supposed to be reassuring but was definitely not. 

“It’s for Martin,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes.

“Who’s Martin?” Dirk said, ripping out a small piece of tape from the dispenser and then playing around with it, sticking it to his palm before tearing it off again.

“The guy Amanda has a crush on,” Todd said.

“I will stab you with these scissors,” Amanda said. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh, sure,” Todd said. “Like Dirk and I were just friends, right?”

Amanda held up the scissors and snipped the air twice in warning. Todd winced and shied away, because he remembered vividly the events of Mom’s birthday back when they were teenagers, and he was sure there was still a scar left over.

“Get that away from me,” he said.

Amanda looked up from where she had placed the last piece of tape, and grinned when she saw the look on Todd’s face. “Mom’s birthday?” she said.

“Mom’s birthday,” Todd confirmed. 

“Mom’s birthday?” Dirk said.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Amanda snapped her fingers and then pointed the scissors, stabby-side up, towards Dirk. “You  _ are _ coming over for dinner, right? Todd said something about that.”

“I am?” Dirk said.

Todd sighed. “Dirk, I told you this, like, four times already. The weekend before Christmas? Remember? You called home and told your parents and everything?”

“Oh!” Dirk said. “Well, that sounds lovely. Shall I bring anything? Wine? Cheese? Crackers? Cake? Homebrewed cider? I wonder if I could ferment cranberries and make a wine out of them. Or maybe a nice soup?” He sniffed the air and his eyes widened. “The soup!” he shouted, and then propelled himself from the carpet and ran into the kitchen. Spurred by the sudden movement, Jaws leaped out of Todd’s lap with a loud meow and gave chase after Dirk.

“Don’t feed her any more!” Todd yelled after them before giving up. Dirk was going to sneak her bites of whatever he was cooking for as long as he lived. Todd swore up and down Dirk had stolen her from him and became her new favourite.

Amanda watched him go with a low whistle. “Is he always like that?”

Todd smiled. “Yeah,” he said, feeling affection like a warm pulse in his chest. He was beginning to suspect that it was less of an ADHD thing and more of a  _ Dirk  _ thing. It was just his personality, bubbling and overflowing with everything he had. 

Amanda hummed thoughtfully, and absentmindedly stroking the now-wrapped gift she was holding in her hands. For a moment, they were quiet—the only sounds the ones coming from the kitchen, clatters and coos as Dirk frantically cleaned up the stovetop from where the soup was boiling over. Jaws had jumped onto the counter and was happily licking the cooled puddles.

Todd looked over to Amanda, saw her face, and sighed. “What?”

“What do you mean?” Amanda said, feigning innocence.

“You have that face again,” Todd said. “That—thinking face. Your eyebrows get all scrunched up and—oh. I guess there  _ is  _ such thing.” He snorted.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Dude, what?”

“Nothing,” Todd said. “Just something Dirk told me once. Anyway, you’re thinking about something and you wanna say it but you’re trying to think of the best way to say it.”

At her guilty look, he laughed. “Come on, out with it.”

Puffing out her cheeks, Amanda let out a long breath. “Well, it’s just that… Todd, you’re moving awfully fast. Not that I’m not happy for you! Dirk seems like an awesome guy, and you know how rarely I give that kind of praise to a guy, so—well, yeah. But he seems… I don’t know.”

“He seems like he’s too much for me?” Todd said. “Like he’s this huge ball of energy, and I’m kind of, well. Boring?” he gave Amanda a wry look.

“Not boring,” Amanda protested.

“You can say it,” Todd said, not unkindly. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about all that. I have anxiety too, you don’t think I’ve stayed up all night thinking about all the ways this could go wrong?”

Amanda drummed her fingers over her gift and shrugged. “Yeah, I know,” she said, the corner of her mouth twisting up. “But you’ve worked it out? With Dirk, I mean?”

For a while, Todd stayed quiet, his eyes trained on Dirk in the kitchen, engaged in a game of tug-of-war with Jaws over the wooden spoon. Dirk caught him looking and grinned, sacrificing one hand’s hold on the spoon to wave. Smiling, Todd waved back, and watched as Dirk blew a kiss at him and then puckered his lips in a ridiculous face. Next to him, he heard Amanda laugh, and that brought him back to their conversation.

“We’ve talked about it,” Todd said. “But, well.” He shrugged. “It’s never going to be perfect. Sometimes I have bad days, sometimes he has bad days. When those two things happen at the same time, things get a little rough. But that’s what’s normal in a relationship. It’s all about compromise. You need to be able to know it’s worth it in the end, that you love them enough for that give and take.”

“And do you?” Amanda’s voice was careful. “Think it’s worth it?”

Finally shooed away, Jaws bounded back into the living room and leaped herself firmly into Todd’s lap. Stroking her ears, Todd thought about how, in the end, the cat was the one who brought the two of them together, just one day after Dirk had taken that leap of faith across his balcony and burst into Todd’s life. He remembered their first fight after that Halloween party, and how they’d stayed up talking until 3AM curled up on the couch, sharing a fuzzy blue blanket. He remembered Dirk trying to teach him how to make his patented chicken-noodle soup, and force-feeding it to him by the gallon when he got a cold one chilly November night before curling right up next to him, sneezing and sniffling and all, and how he’d gotten even sicker than Todd afterwards, but declared that it was all worth it to be able to hold him. He remembered Dirk staying for two hours in the waiting room of the therapist office, bored out of his mind but refusing to leave until Todd walked out the door and right into his arms.

And now it was Christmas. He remembered the endlessly-growing list of things Dirk insisted were tradition in his household (including but not limited to pies-in-the-face, gingerbread eating contests, drinking an entire gallon of eggnog, and streaking in the snow—the last one Todd might actually rather die than follow through with), and the way he impulse-ordered a two-headed Frankenstein sweater for them to wear to a holiday party at his university.

The living room was covered in tinsel and glitter—Todd was going to have a field day cleaning that up—and, apparent crisis averted, a heavenly smell began to drift from the kitchen. They were going to sit down and have lunch, and then they were going to go out to pick a Christmas tree to take home and put up in Todd’s dorm. And then there was going to be gifts—Todd smiled as he thought about the BIC ballpoint pen he had jokingly stolen from the bakery office and wrapped around with tinsel sitting under the tree. And then, and then, and then. Possibilities swarmed his mind, but all of a sudden they didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

Todd looked at everything around him. He remembered how lifeless it looked just a few months (what felt like a lifetime) ago, a dull, grey life of routine and isolation. Now it was filled with chaos and clutter, and an endless explosion of colours. All from one overly-enthusiastic couple and a hyperactive college student’s leap of faith across a balcony.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we've reached the end!
> 
> If you've made it this far—thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It's been an absolute blast to write this, and oftentimes a welcome distraction from the occasional chaos of real life. Wherever you are, whoever you are, I hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. Cheers!!
> 
> <333


End file.
